


Fisticuffs

by iscatterthemintimeandspace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Adultery, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Boxer! Castiel, Boxer! Dean, Boxer! Sam, Boxing, Character Death, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Homophobia, Hospitals, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Photographer! Gabriel, Punching, Scars, Second Families, Substance Abuse, Supernatural Rare Pair Big Bang 2016, blood mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/iscatterthemintimeandspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Photographer Gabriel Novak sees the world a little differently than most people. His passion for his art has caused him to do some stupid things in his lifetime. Joining a boxing gym in order to get to know trainer Sam Winchester better might be one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warm-ups

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Siralop/media/sabrielbanner.png.html)

He shouldn’t have agreed to do this shoot, Gabriel thought regretfully. He had more important things to do than skulk around a boxing gym, surrounded by sweaty, grunting people, but he could deny Cas nothing, and Cas knew it.

Last week, Cas had come home with yet another black eye, and Gabriel, in his typical fashion, had wanted answers. Cas , knowing just how to stroke his brother’s ego, had agreed to bring him to the gym as long as he took pictures for his next fight. Gabriel, full of himself and his concern for Cas, had agreed. He had played directly into his stupid, conniving brother’s hands.

“Do I really have to?” Gabriel tried for the last time.

Cas pushed out his lower lip in a pout. “You promised.”

“You’re twenty-four, Cas. The puppy-dog look doesn’t work on me anymore!” Gabriel answered, avoiding Cas’ eyes. He knew, despite his protests, that Cas’ pout did work on him.

“C’mon, Gabe,” Cas consoled him, pulling out the final piece de resistance, his nickname. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then you can get back to work.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Cas knew him too well for him to object again. If he went back on his word, Cas would be using it against him until the end of time. His baby brother was too good at holding grudges.

“Fine, but you owe me. Price yet to be decided.”

Cas gave an eyeroll that made his brother proud. “Okay, fine, but let’s get going! We don’t want to be late!”

A couple of minutes later, they were standing in the doorway of Three Crosses Boxing gym, the sounds of leather hitting leather echoing around them. The gym had clearly seen better days, Gabriel thought. The floors were bare concrete, chipped and flecked in some places, and each heavy bag that hung from the rusty rafters was patched with shiny strips of duct tape. Every surface was battered in some fashion, repaired or just plain old. The decor, if one could call it that, didn’t help much. Threadbare boxing gloves and shoes were looped over the ceiling pipes, motivational sayings scrawled on canvas pinned to the half-painted walls. He wrinkled his nose.

Gabriel didn’t understand what Cas saw in boxing. Getting punched in the face didn’t sound remotely fun to him, but then again the only physical activity Gabriel engaged in, and his gut could attest to that, was moving his camera to get a better shot.

“Cas! I was worried you weren’t coming!”

His brother brightened as he heard his name, turning to face the front desk. There was a large burly-looking man there, complete with a big bushy beard and a trucker hat. He looked completely at home in the gym, decidedly worn and battered himself.

“Bobby! I wouldn’t miss it,” Cas grinned wider than Gabriel had seen him smile in a very long time. All of his teeth were showing, lips pulled back in a genuine grin. “This is my brother, Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Bobby Singer. He owns the gym.”

“Pleasure,” Gabriel said mildly as he shook the man’s hand. He had a good handshake, solid but strangely gentle, something he wouldn’t have expected in a man that used his fists for a living. He’d learned more than enough about Bobby since Cas had joined the Three Crosses. Gabriel had wheedled every detail out of his normally quiet brother using every trick in his formidable arsenal, but getting any information from him was like pulling teeth.

“Brought your camera?” Bobby asked, adjusting his hat. He looked Gabriel up and down, eyes lingering on his pudge, no doubt trying to assess if he would have the same physical prowess as his brother. He’d be sorely disappointed.

“Yes, sir,” Gabriel replied, patting his black leather camera bag.

“Sir ain’t necessary, Bobby’s just fine,” the man smiled. “A few pictures of your brother here for the posters, and he’ll be all set up for his next fight.”

Gabriel nodded, his eyes sweeping across the gym, seeing which locations had the right amount of light. The Three Crosses was pretty open, with a row of large windows in the front and a standard size ring in the middle. There were punching bags of all different sizes circling the ring, only one or two other gym goers making them sing at the moment.

He settled by the windows, getting out his equipment as Cas warmed up. Gabriel snapped a few test shots around the gym, not really paying attention to much else. The sooner he was finished, the sooner he could get out of here. He had just finished when Bobby steered him back towards the window where Cas had begun working with a taller man on the focus pads.

Gabriel got behind his camera, snapping a few quick shots of the pair before actually looking at Cas’s trainer.

The man was, simply put, one of the most interesting-looking people Gabriel had ever seen, and that was saying something for New York. There were millions of people crammed into the cluster of islands, but the photographer, with his discerning eye, had seen precious few who held a candle to the man before him.

The trainer was a moose of a man, standing around 6’4” if Gabriel would hazard a guess, with hazel eyes and arms worthy of Michelangelo’s David. He had broad shoulders, a tapered waist and a butt that made the photographer’s mouth go dry and his blood run a little faster.

Gabriel snapped picture after picture in rapid succession, as if trying to capture the accelerated beating of his heart on film.

The clench of the man’s jaw as he took a punch.

CLICK!

The definition in his bicep as he threw a jab.

CLICK!

His smile, complete with dimples, when Cas executed a complex combination.

CLICK!

The artist in him just took over, and he was so absorbed he forgot who he was actually supposed to be taking pictures of.

He had taken an entire roll of film by the time they finished the first three minute round, and had to switch to his back-up, a digital camera. Call him a hipster, but even in the age of digital technology, Gabriel prefered film and his darkroom. Watching his film develop made the hassle of lighting and dunking worth it. Cas and his trainer paid him no attention as he circled around them, trying different angles. They were too busy bobbing and weaving, fists flying. 

When he was boxing, Castiel looked the happiest Gabriel had seen him. There was a flush across his cheeks and a smile on his lips, which was strange for the normally stoic Cas, except, that is, when he was talking about his mystery crush.

As he worked, Gabriel wondered vaguely if the man with the green eyes was here today. No manner of pleading and teasing had gotten Cas to reveal his name... yet. Gabriel was nothing if not determined. His long-ingrained big brother instincts had gone into overdrive the moment Cas had mentioned this green-eyed, freckled mystery man. Cas having a crush was rare, Cas mentioning said crush to Gabriel was even rarer still, and that made him nervous. He had protected Cas most of his life, and he’d be damned if he stopped now, even if Cas was an adult and could clearly take care of himself.

The ring of the bell jolted Gabriel back into reality as the two fighters stopped their dance.

Cas moved to grab his water bottle, emptying it with large, loud gulps. Gabriel found himself face to face with the gorgeous trainer, staring at him shamelessly.

The trainer gave him a goofy smile.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he offered his hand. “I’m Sam.”

Gabriel swallowed thickly, his throat dry as a desert, hoping fervently his hands weren’t sweaty, and shook it. “Gabriel, I’m Cas’ brother.”

“Ah,” Sam laughed, the dimples on his cheeks becoming deeper. “I was starting to think you were imaginary.”

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. “Imaginary?”

“All Cas talks about, when he talks anything besides boxing, is you, his famous photographer brother, and we hadn’t met you yet,” he teased lightly. “I thought he’d made you up.”

Gabriel smirked at that. “Nope. I’m a real boy, and everything Cassie said about me is true, unless, of course, he said something bad.” That earned him another chuckle from Sam. Gorgeous laugh, gorgeous face, he could get used to it.

Next to him, Castiel had a warning “Do not embarrass me in front of my friends or I’ll smother you in your sleep” look on his face as he moped chest with a towel. Gabriel decided to risk it.

“He did mention the single part, right?”

Sam’s face did a funny twitch. Gabriel’s heart dropped into the deepest pit of his stomach. Had he really just done that? Panic! He wanted to throw up.

Cas’s face had gone from threatening to murderous in a matter of seconds. If Gabriel hadn’t been so sick, he would have spared a moment for concern .

“Uhhhh...ummm... errrr,” Sam stuttered, his face turning bright red. “I-I’ll keep that in mind?” He ducked his head and practically ran away.

As soon as he was gone, Cas rounded on his brother. “You had to do that? Now?”

He should have known Cas would have no pity for his poor trampled heart. “Had to try.” Gabriel grinned sheepishly at him.

“Go home,” Cas breathed. “I will see you later.”

Gabriel began to gather his things, taking his time and trying to catch another glimpse of Sam. Cas shot him another dirty look.

“I’m going, I’m going.”

As soon as he scaled the three flights of stairs to his and Cas’ apartment, Gabriel wasted no time. He hung his worn green coat in the hall closet and slipped off his shoes at the door. God forbid he left one sock out of place, Cas would kill him. His brother constantly complained about how messy Gabriel was, so in the interest of sibling harmony Gabe tried to keep his mess limited to his personal space.

He grabbed a cold beer from the kitchen, twisting the top off as he pattered down the hall to his bedroom to unload.

Gabriel’s bedroom always looked like a bomb had gone off in it. In contrast to neat freak Cas, he was a total mess. The hardwood floor was barely visible under the heaps of clothing, shoes, portfolios and whatnot strewn all over. His bed wasn’t much better than the floor, rumpled sheets and a worn blanket hanging over the edge. With practiced ease, Gabriel navigated the minefield of his room and dropped his bag, minus his cameras, on his desk.

Gabriel almost never took advantage of the fact that he had an extremely wealthy father, but this was one of his few concessions. Sure, he had a dark room in his studio, but having one at home gave him the distinct advantage of being able to develop pictures in his boxers, which was the best way to do it in his opinion.

His personal darkroom was a simple affair. It was a converted extra bedroom, fitted with a sink and blocked of all light. His enlarger took up most of one counter, his trays all laid out next to it. His record player stood in the corner, flanked by a shelf of vinyl. There were strings hanging criss-cross to dry the pictures once he had printed them. His last batches, a roll from his last trip to Union Square and a roll from his last work shoot, were still strung up, waiting to be taken down and sold.

Gabriel unpinned them one at a time, separating and stacking them gently, storing them away for his next exhibition. He’d mount them when he had the time, but he was anxious to get this particular roll into the developing tank. Pulling out one of his favorite records (and seriously, who doesn’t love the Beatles?), Gabriel placed it on the player, flicked the needle down, and got to work.

With practiced ease, he popped the film cap and took the film out of its container, careful to handle it around the edges. Gabriel cut the leader portion, fed the film into the reel, and began to twist. This was always the part he was most anxious about. He’d messed it up a thousand times, ruining roll after roll before he could do it without even looking, but to this day if he had an important film, he held his breath as he wound.

He exhaled as the last of the roll circled around the reel, protected from his bumbling fingers. He cut off the last portion still tethering the film and slid the spool back into the tank. A final twist of the lid and his film was safe.

Gabriel flipped on the lights to find his chemicals. Developer first, then stop bath, then finally the fixer. He poured each of them in turn, setting his timer and waiting. He danced a little to the music as he agitated the tank, shaking it to the beat as the time passed. After he’d washed the last traces of fixer from the roll, he unscrewed the lid, careful not to touch any of the exposures. The film unfurled, still dripping, and Gabriel carried it gingerly to clip and weigh it so it would dry straight.

With some time to kill while his film dried, he slunk down the hall, plopped down at his desk, and turned on his computer.

His Mac and set up dominated almost the whole of his desktop, another nod to hipsterdom in favor of his work. He plugged his digital camera into the computer to upload. Though Gabriel loved his .35 mm, there was something to be said about the instantaneous nature of digital film. Already he had all his pictures at his fingertips, ready to cut and edit. He went through them shot by shot, opening them into his photo editor, fixing and sharpening. 

He was relieved to find that despite his instance of insanity over Sam, he had still managed to grab a couple good shots of Cas as well. 

His precious baby brother was maddeningly photogenic, almost supernaturally so. With the stark contrast of his black hair and blue eyes, he was most photographers’ dream subject. Gabriel was lucky to be bound to him with blood and brotherly affection, because Cas would have never put up with him otherwise. He picked five or six shots of him, painstakingly editing them and putting them all in a folder to send over for Bobby to choose from. 

The rest Gabriel just scanned through, deleting the unsalvageable and separating the rest in another folder for later editing. Maybe he’d send them as well.

Beside him, his phone buzzed. A text from his half-sister Anna.

“Crap!” He’d promised to send her the pictures from her latest shoot this morning, and in his rush to get out of the house, he hadn’t.

He dug into the desk drawer frantically, fumbling for his memory stick among the mess.

“Ouch!”

Gabriel pulled his hand back, popping his thumb into his mouth. Something had stuck him. Gingerly, he pawed through the contents, trying to find the offending article. Something else caught his attention. It was at the very bottom, covered in a mass of paper, and his heart contracted painfully as he yanked it out of the drawer.

His first camera.

Memories came flooding back, unbidden. He was five years old again, nursing his first black eye and watching Cas sleep. He curled up protectively as the door to their room swung open, revealing a scrawny blond teenager, clutching a wet hand-towel and a battered cardboard box.

“It’s a camera, Gabe,” Luc had said, as he gently cleaned the side of Gabriel’s tear-stained face. “You take pictures with it and I’ll get them developed, alright?”

Gabriel had looked at the thing in wonder, until Luc’s hand cupped his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Just stay out of Mom’s way, okay?” he whispered, cradling Gabriel against his chest. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Luc, full name Lucifer, was his half-brother. He was eight years older, and since then had become a heroin addict. Gabriel owed him so much. He'd been his and Cas' protector for most of their lives, at least when he was clean.

Gabriel had tried to get Luc help, had held him while he shook through the withdrawal, begged God for his life as they waited for the ambulance when he’d overdosed, but he couldn't take the ups and downs anymore. The vicious cycle of Luc's addiction had left him raw and he had Cas to think of. 

A sick feeling settled in Gabriel's stomach as he held the camera again, feeling it settle familiarly into his hands. It didn’t work anymore; it was broken, much like his relationship with Luc. He hadn’t heard from his half-brother in years, blocking his number after several desperate, heart-wrenching calls, but the pain of the futility of it all was still fresh in his mind. Sometimes, he almost picked up the phone, feeling guilty, but he knew that ship had sailed and he couldn’t go back.

His appetite for photo editing lost, Gabriel put his computer to sleep to work on them another day. The reminder of his brother had left him shaken and he retreated back into the darkroom for the solace only that sanctuary could bring.

Thankfully, the film was dry already, and Gabriel buried himself in picking, enlarging and developing his favorites.

It was an arduous process even for someone as passionate about his art as Gabriel was. He had to cut and enlarge each frame one by one, dunk each print in chemicals and then hang them to dry, but it was just what he needed to keep his mind off of Luc.

He didn’t know how many hours had passed before Cas nearly scared him out of his skin.

The door of the darkroom flung open with a loud clatter, banging against the wall.

“Cas!” he yelled, his heart pumping a mile a minute. “What have I told you about barging in here? You could have ruined my film!”

Castiel cocked his head, completely ignoring his brother, his attention riveted by the dripping pictures. He grabbed the corner of the closest one, again disregarding Gabriel’s protests.

“Be careful!” he squawked, smacking Cas’ shoulder.

“This is not of me,” Cas said plainly, reaching for the next print.

“Look with your eyes,” Gabriel steamed, itching to slap his brother’s grimy hands off of his hard work. “No, it’s not of you. Ego much?”

Cas flitted between the lines of pictures, scrutinizing each one with his bright blue eyes. “None of these are of me. They’re all of Sam!”

Gabriel blushed, snatching a particularly good shot of Sam’s dimples out of Cas’ fingers. “No- well… maybe.”

Cas squinted at him. “Brother-“

“What?” Gabriel hung the picture back on the line. “He’s a good model. Interesting-looking, nothing more.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“Don’t, Cas.” He swallowed, unhappy to be reminded of his ex, Kali. “Just… don’t. I’m fine.”

Cas shrugged at him. “I worry.”

Gabriel wiped his wet hands on his jeans. “You’ll get wrinkles. Besides, kiddo,” he ruffled Cas’ black hair. “That’s my job.”

He led Cas out of the dark room, shutting the door behind them. There would be more time — and privacy — tomorrow.

Cas’ stomach grumbled loudly as they stepped into the hallway.

“So dinner? What’re you feeling?” Gabriel started throwing out suggestions. “Thai? Or what about that Vietnamese place you like? My treat.”

“Actually,” Cas looked sheepish. “Will you make me mac and cheese? With the breadcrumbs on top?”

“Sure, kiddo. Anything you want.”

He may not have been tall, or handsome, or particularly nice, but Gabriel took pride in his ability to cook. He could turn the most ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary. He had learned it from Hannah, his and Cas’ nanny. Mac and cheese with breadcrumbs had been her specialty.

Gabriel took care to always have the makings on hand, in case he or Cas had had a bad day. It never failed to cheer him up. Even making it lifted his mood in ways nothing else could.

Gabriel hummed as he put a pot of water on to boil, the embarrassment of the boxing shoot and the camera almost completely washed from his mind by the promise of warm comfort food and nostalgia.

He started to dice the onions, his hands practically moving on their own. Into a saucepan they went followed by a pat of butter. By the time they had caramelized, Gabriel was full-on singing into his beer, dancing in shuffling, socked feet across the floor. He dropped the macaroni into the now-boiling water and began adding the cheese and whipping cream to the other pan.

As the oven warmed, he finished the sauce and drained the pasta, still singing loudly off-key.

“You’re awful,” Cas said bluntly, coming in and leaning on the door frame.

“True art is never appreciated,” Gabriel sniffed theatrically as he mixed the pasta and cheese sauce into a large baking dish. “How did the rest of training go?”

Cas shrugged. “It was fine. Sparred with Dean a bit. Might have broken his nose.”

Gabriel didn’t fail to notice the light blush appearing on his brother’s cheeks when he mentioned that name. He smirked as he added the final touch, homemade bread crumbs, to the macaroni and popped it into the oven.

“Atta boy, Cassie!” he grinned. “Dean wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious man of green eyes and freckles, would he?” Gabriel teased, fluttering his eyelashes at Cas.

Castiel’s flush deepened, and by that reaction alone, Gabriel knew he was right.

“So I’m thinking a summer weddi-“

He was cut off mid-sentence by a flying dish towel smacking him square across the face.

“Oh... you’re on!”

A couple hours later, with cups of boozy hot chocolate, bellies full of mac and cheese, and changed in more comfortable clothes, Gabriel and Cas had settled down to watch Netflix on the couch, squabbling over the choice in shows. Cas loved his documentaries, while Gabriel was a reality junkie.

In the interest of comfy couches and cocoa, Gabriel conceded defeat and put on some serial killer documentary that Cas assured him was interesting. Cas fell asleep within the first half hour, and Gabriel was left alone with a serious case of the heebie-jeebies, jumping at every bump from outside their door.

“Stupid little bugger,” Gabriel muttered, snuggling closer to his sleeping brother. If his friends saw this, they would never let him hear the end of it, but he didn’t care. Safety in numbers after all.

He pulled their holey old comforter around himself and Cas, tucking it gently under his chin. Cas stirred, looking sleepily at him.

“Love you, Gabriel,” he murmured.

“Love you too, kiddo. Love you too.”


	2. Shadow Boxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam is an idiot and Dean gets his nose broken

CLANG! THUD!

One more for good measure, Sam thought, lightly banging his head on the side of a locker in the Three Crosses locker room. He was an idiot, he decided, leaning his head against the cool metal. The biggest idiot in New York, maybe even the Eastern seaboard. He should have known Cas’ brother would be gorgeous, and of course, he had spectacularly fucked it up. The guy had asked him out, for god's sake, and he ran away! Pathetic.

“Dude, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Sam pulled his head up, and found himself eye-to-eye with his older brother, Dean.

“That’s kinda the point,” he replied lamely. “Where were you? You were supposed to work with Cas this morning. You knew his brother was coming to take pictures.”

Dean shrugged. He looked rough, the bags under his eyes worse than usual. He resumed opening his locker, yanking out his old duffle bag.

“Lisa called.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He didn’t like Dean’s ex-girlfriend, he never had. Sam really had thought that she would lay off since Dean moved to New York, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

“What did she want?”

“She wanted to talk, okay?” Dean snapped, suddenly defensive. He shut his locker hard. “Why are you banging your head anyway? Someone spit in your coffee?” 

“Because I’m a spaz, but what else is new?” Sam answered bitterly. “I made an idiot of myself in front of Cas’ brother because YOU weren’t here!”

“I’m pretty sure you would’ve made an idiot of yourself anyway, whether I was there or not,” Dean retorted, shoving Sam’s shoulder.

Sam glared at him.

“Enough of the bitch-face. I owe you one, alright?” Dean grabbed his mitts from the bench. “Now c’mon, Bobby’ll flip if we don’t get out there.”

~~~~

Finishing his run, Sam popped into the gym and looked around, trying to catch his breath. His and Dean’s lateness the other day hadn’t gone unnoticed by Bobby, and it earned them 20 laps around the block.  


A couple days had passed since his disastrous meeting with Gabriel, and Sam found he couldn’t keep the golden-eyed photographer out of his mind. He felt terrible about embarrassing Cas, and even worse about what had happened with Gabriel.

Across the gym floor, Dean and Cas were starting to suit up for their sparring session, pulling on their pads and headgear. Well, he had to start mending his bridges somewhere. Gritting his teeth, Sam crossed the gym and tapped Cas on the shoulder.

“Need help?”

Cas turned and nodded, holding out his gloves for Sam to adjust.

“So,” Sam said nervously, winding the velcro strip around Cas’ forearm. “Um... your brother... I’m sorry... will you tell him that?”

Cas remained silent, tilting his head and squinting at him. ‘Fuck,’ Sam thought. ‘I’ve messed this up royally.’

“Cas...”

His second attempted apology was interrupted by an eyeroll from Cas. “Rought grard,” he mumbled.

“What?”

Cas opened his mouth, spitting his blue mouthguard into the palm of his glove. “My mouthguard,” he repeated, this time much clearer. “Sam, Gabriel took no offense to your response, but I’ll pass on your regards. Will you tighten my headgear?” He popped his mouthguard back in, effectively ending their conversation.

“Sure,” Sam nodded, still fretting. It was clear Cas didn’t want to talk about it right now. He would try to catch him later. He fitted the padded headpiece around Cas’s head and adjusted the buckle under his chin. “Knock’ em dead. Get in a good cross for me, okay?”

“C’mon, Carrie and Miranda,” Dean yelled from across the ring. “Less yapping, more boxing!”

Sam watched Cas slip into the ring opposite his brother and get into stance.

The bell signaled the start of the round, and Cas and Dean touched their gloves lightly before throwing any real punches.

When Bobby had brought Cas in almost a year ago, Sam had thought he was going to be in and out like most of the amateurs Bobby dragged through the doors. The majority of them barely lasted a month, not able to keep up with the rigorous training the gym owner would put them through.

Cas was a bit too weedy and way too pretty to be a good boxer, or that’s what Sam had thought at the time. With a little help from Bobby and Dean, however, he had filled out, putting on muscle and holding his own. Compared to Dean, he was still downright waifish, but his slenderness belied the power of the muscles underneath.

Sam found himself thinking about Gabriel, wondering shamefully how he’d compare to Cas’ lithe form, what he looked like under the baggy jeans and sweater. Blushing, he shook himself mentally and tried to concentrate on what was going on in the ring.

He winced once or twice when Dean caught Cas particularly hard, but he wasn’t worried. Cas gave it as good as he got, and then some. Sam hung on the ropes, calling encouragement.

“C’mon Cas, throw some body shots! Hit and move, hit and move!” Cas was a thinker in the ring, watching and learning with each punch. Sam knew that by the time they were finished, Cas would have paid Dean back for every punch he landed. His brother would never admit it, but if Cas kept it up, he would be better than Dean one day.

Sam loved watching his brother box. Ever since they’d started in grade school, Dean had had a knack for boxing that Sam never had. Sam could hold his own in a fight, yes, but he had never developed the same style and appreciation that his brother did, had never seen it as a career.

No, Sam’s chosen career had him sweating over applications. He was spending more time at the gym only to try and burn off the nervous energy as he waited for his acceptances… or rejections. Dean had all but thrown him out of the apartment, driven to the point of insanity by Sam’s anxious tapping and shaking, suggesting none too nicely that he find a girlfriend and get it out of his system. But between his work, school and applications, he barely had time to sleep, let alone date. Not that Sam wouldn’t mind seeing a certain photographer again… if he could convince Gabriel that he wasn’t a total dork…

Sam was torn from his thoughts as Dean hit the floor, the crash turning everyone’s attention to the center of the gym. Sam was in the ring in an instant, at his brother’s side before he had even realized it. Dean was awake, and bleeding from his nose. Above him, Cas looked horrified, immediately regaining his gawky posture and spitting his mouthguard onto the floor.

“Dean, I am sorry, I am so, so sorry!” he muttered, his voice edged with hysteria.

Sam unbuckled Dean’s headgear and pulled the guard from his mouth. He tried to check his nose, but Dean pushed him off, struggling with his gloves.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” he protested, his mouth full of blood. He spat it onto the mat and looked up at Cas, who was staring back at him, his face a mask of shame.

“Great shot, Cas! Holy shit!” Dean grinned, with blood still pouring from his nose. He got up shakily from the floor and clapped the still-stunned Cas on the shoulder. “I owe you a drink for that one!”

Cas nodded, his expression easing a bit with Dean’s reaction. Sam helped him out of the ring and steered him to one of the benches that stood beside the ring. There he undid his gloves and quickly unwrapped his hands, Cas’ eyes never leaving Dean.

“It’s alright, Cas,” Sam tried to reassure him. He remembered the first time he’d knocked someone down like that. He had felt like he wanted to vomit, until the other fighter had smiled at him through his broken nose. It was a jarring, shaky feeling. “He’ll be fine. It’s not like he hasn’t had a broken nose before.”

Sam could practically feel the pride pouring off Dean as Bobby tried to stop the bleeding. Barely a year ago, Cas couldn’t land a punch on him, and now he had knocked him on his ass.

After getting his gloves and headgear off, Cas slunk across the floor, hovering over Dean and Bobby and anxiously chewing on his thumbnail as they sat on the other side of the ring. His eyes were flicking back and forth nervously from Bobby to Dean, as if he expected one of them to yell at him.

“That was one hell of a punch, son,” Bobby chuckled, holding the towel to Dean’s face. “I think you may have broken it.”

Cas visibly blanched, going so white Sam put a hand on his shoulder in case he passed out. Taking the bloody towel from Bobby and off his face, Dean laughed. “I’m proud of you, dude.”

“DEAN!” Bobby snapped. “Enough yapping, you idjit. Towel, face… keep it there! I don’t want you bleeding all over my gym!”

Finally, Cas smiled, chuckling as Dean held the stained cloth to his face again, shaking his head at Bobby.

“Frinks tomannow?” Dean asked, his voice muffled under the towel. Sam rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dean to ask for drinks when he was bleeding heavily.

Cas cocked his head in confusion, and squinted his eyes. It was almost painful to watch the two of them dance around each other.

“Happy hour tomorrow, Cas,” Sam translated, smirking at his brother. “Whiskey, around six?”

“I could do that,” Cas mumbled, not meeting Sam's eyes. The shy smile that quirked his lips was all for Dean.

“So it's settled,” Sam clapped him on the shoulder, grinning widely. ”Now let me get this idiot to the hospital…”

~~~

It was official. There was nothing more annoying than traffic in New York — not the smell of garbage day in the summer, not the lost, bumbling tourists standing in the middle of a sidewalk. Even though it was only ten minutes to the closest hospital, Sam felt like he'd been through the ringer by the time they walked through the emergency room doors.

He groaned when he saw the number of people in the waiting area. It was going to be a long night. Shaking his head and resigning himself to infinite boredom, he guided the still bleeding Dean into a chair. After signing him in, he slid into a chair beside Dean.

“You're an idiot,” he huffed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You could have asked him out for drinks without letting him break your nose, you know.”

Dean's brow furrowed, and he pulled Bobby’s bloody towel away from his face. “I didn't let him break my nose!” he protested. “And I didn't ask him out.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Right, sure. And you don't stare at him every time you don't think he's looking at you.”

“As a matter of fact, I don't.” Dean’s nose had stopped bleeding, but there was definitely a bump that hadn't been there before. “I'm just being nice. The kid doesn't have a lot of friends, Sammy.”

“Whatever, Dean,” Sam laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Says the moose who made an idiot of himself in front of Cas' brother.”

Sam snorted at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least I admit it,” he challenged. “I never said I had game.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “He asked you out?”

“Not... exactly,” Sam explained, trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chair. “Just let me know he's single and then I kinda...ran away.”

Dean chuckled. “You ran away?”

Sam sighed. He should have known better than to open his mouth. Dean never let up an opportunity to make fun of him, and Sam’s sex life — or lack thereof — was his favorite subject.

“You should invite him to the bar tomorrow,” Dean prompted, wiggling his eyebrows as much as he was able with a broken nose. The effect was ridiculous.

“He probably has more important things to do than happy hour with his brother's boxing trainers,” Sam mumbled, more to himself. He could ask Cas to invite Gabriel, as an apology for being weird. His inner voice vetoed that thought at once. 'Or you could make an even bigger jerk of yourself and fuck it up again.'

“Hey, I want to meet the man who had Smooth Sammy banging his head against a locker!”

Sam snorted, laughing a little bit. Smooth Sam. He'd almost forgotten about that. Dean and his dad thought they were being so funny after his disastrous first date with a girl in the ninth grade. He was lucky he was cute enough to score a second date...and a third.

“I wish you wouldn't call me that,” Sam griped, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Sammy is a fat twelve-year-old.”

“Sammy is my little brother,” Dean insisted, reaching over to ruffle Sam's hair, and for once, Sam let him.

“Dad called,” Dean said quietly after a moment. “He wanted to know how you are.”

“Oh, he knows how to work the phone drunk?”

Sam regretted it the moment he had said it. Dean's jaw clenched and he pulled back his hand.

“You can go, Sam,” he bit out. “I'll see you at home.”

“Dean-”

“DEAN WINCHESTER,” the nurse called, one hand impatiently resting on her hip.

“I'll see you at home.” And with that, he got up and went with the nurse, leaving Sam sitting alone in the waiting room.

Sam had every intention of going home after Dean had dismissed him, he really did. But as he got behind the wheel of his car, he couldn’t turn the key. He couldn’t just leave Dean there, alone and doped up to find his way home, even if it was only a couple of blocks. New York suffered no fools, so he waited, leaning his head lightly against the steering wheel. Sam hated driving the Impala, but he had no other choice tonight. It reminded him too much of Dad to be comfortable, and he couldn’t deal with his brother breathing down his neck every time he hit a bump.

He was wrong to lash out at Dean like that. It wasn’t his fault their father was a useless drunk. At least Dean had memories from before, of tee ball and family picnics. All Sam had was the tinkle of breaking glass and the screams through the wall when his parents fought. There were no happy memories left for him.

But none of that was Dean’s fault.

Sighing, he opened the door, figuring he had at least an hour or two to kill before Dean got out. His stomach was growling, and locking the car behind him, Sam went in search of food.

Three hours later found him, dozing on the hood of the Impala. He’d been watching the stars, not that there were many between the fog and light pollution, but the brightest were still visible. Dean shook him awake.

“Wha..? What,” Sam mumbled, sitting up. Dean came into focus, white gauze taped over the bridge of his nose.

“Okay there, dude?” Dean’s voice sounded thick, slowed with the drugs they’d given him to deaden the pain.

Sam slid from the hood carefully. “Dean… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

He was silenced as Dean pulled him in for a hug. “Me too, Sammy. Me too.”

They didn’t talk the rest of the way home.


	3. Jab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is smooth and Cas is a cockblock

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Siralop/media/Picpspam%201.png.html)

_I'm an angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun,_

_An angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun_

 

Gabriel’s phone sprang to life, buzzing loudly on his chest. Yawning, Gabriel slowly opened his eyes and picked it up. It was late, the street lights outside were on and he was lying sprawled across their worn out couch. The apartment was dim, only lit by the lights from outside, instead of filled with the afternoon sun like it had been when he fell asleep. 

“Yello?”

There was hysterical laughing at the other end, and Gabriel almost hung up in confusion. “Who is this?”

Someone was hushing the others. “Sorry Gabriel, it’s me.”

Gabriel sighed into the phone. “You could've just said that. What’s up?”

“I’m drunk,” was Cas’ reply.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Gabriel sat up from the couch and stretched, looking at the clock on the TV. Only 10 o’clock, how was Cas wasted already? “You okay?”

“Will you come get me?” he asked, more giggling in the background nearly drowning out his voice.

“Sure. Where are you?” Gabriel asked, getting up from the couch and trying to locate his keys and his wallet. They were on the coffee table, buried under his latest batch of prints. He had been sorting through them when he'd drifted off.

“Whiskey Tavern, on Baxter Street… Near City Hall,” Cas slurred into the phone.

Gabriel stuff his wallet and keys unceremoniously into his pockets and crossed the room. He shrugged on his green jacket over the rumpled maroon button-down and jeans he was wearing and slid into his boots. He gave the mirror next to the door a split-second look, before running a hand through his messy hair and stepping into the hallway.

“On my way.”

~~~~

It didn’t take long for Gabriel to find Cas once he got to Whiskey — the bar itself was small, even though it was almost filled to capacity with the suit crowd from the surrounding buildings. Cas and his companions were in the outside patio area, corralled into a corner.

Sitting next to Cas was a good-looking guy with green eyes and a bandage over his nose and —Gabriel’s heart sunk — Sam. All three of them had rosy cheeks indicating they were most likely already drunk.

“Gabriel!” Cas waved enthusiastically at him as Gabriel maneuvered through the throng of people to get to them.

Gabriel could smell the whiskey on them as he got closer, and not the cheap stuff either. There were empty beer bottles, a couple shot glasses, and lime wedges on their table.

‘That’s why Cas is so happy,. Gabriel thought as he slid into the booth next to Cas. ‘Tequila.’

“Hey, Cassie!” He smiled, trying to keep himself from throwing up in terror. “Hi Sam, nice to see you again.”

“Same. How have you been?” Sam replied, nervously picking at his nails.

“Good, good. Same old. Just trying to keep this one out of trouble.” Gabriel nudged Cas in the ribs, tipping him over onto the man sitting next to him. “Who is this then?”

Cas blushed. “Gabriel, this is Dean, my -err- boxing trainer.”

Dean held out his hand for Gabriel to shake, and Gabriel took it. “Ah, you’re the one who keeps busting Cas’ lip!”

Dean grinned widely. “You’re the one who had Sammy tripping over himself when you came to take pictures,” he shot back.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, turning even redder than he already was.

Gabriel laughed and shared a smile with Dean. “Touche, sir! Now what are we drinking?”

“What aren’t we drinking is a better question,” Sam laughed, his face still slightly red, indicating the bottles and shot glasses on the table. “Beer, whiskey, tequila, and pickle-backs.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to ask about that last one?”

Sam grinned at him and waved over the waitress. “Hey Meg, can we have two more rounds of pickle-backs, please?”

When they came, Gabriel was surprised he didn’t hate pickle-backs. In fact, he kinda liked them. Despite the fact that pairing whiskey and pickle juice sounded repugnant, they complimented each other well. So well, in fact, that he ordered three more rounds.

“You trying to catch up?” Dean teased after his second.

“Catch up? Nah,” Gabriel shook his head. “Besides, you wimps can’t hold your liquor anyway.”

Famous last words.

~~~~

Two things Gabriel knew right now. One was that he hadn’t been this drunk in a very long time, and two, Cas was an emotional drunk. His little brother was belting out a soulful rendition of “Dead or Alive” despite the fact that this particular establishment wasn’t even a karaoke bar.

Gabriel was actually enjoying himself. Next to him, Dean and Sam were nearly in tears, they were laughing so hard. When he finished singing, Cas plopped down next to Dean, so close he was almost in his lap. Dean didn’t move.

‘Interesting,’ Gabriel thought, watching Dean smile. He sipped on his drink, which was sweet, fruity and had a small umbrella in it. ‘Very interesting.’

Thinking quickly, he chugged down the last sugar-laden sip of his daiquiri and stood up. “I need some...air. What about you, Sam?”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows and then nodded to Dean and Cas, who were in their own little word. It took Sam a minute, but he eventually stood and followed Gabriel out of the bar.

Gabriel stepped into the warm night air with relish and inhaled deeply. Nothing like a warm summer night in Chinatown. “Are those two always like that?”

Sam grinned, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “You think that’s bad? You should see them in the gym.”

They walked down the block, stopping and sitting on a bench in the park next door. Even though it was late, there were still a fair amount of people out, coming and going from the buildings that flanked the park. Gabriel settled against the bench, enjoying the languid feeling the alcohol had infused his limbs with. But next to him, Sam was jittery.

“Gabriel, I-” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. He wouldn’t meet Gabriel’s eyes. “About what happened in the gym-”

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Gabriel replied, cutting him off. “ My bad. I should really get to know people a little better before propositioning them in boxing gyms.”

Sam looked surprised. “No… that’s not it,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry I ran away. I didn’t mean to… I just... a cute guy asked me out… and I’m an idiot.”

“Ah,” was all Gabriel said, his heart pounding in his chest a mile a minute.

“Can we start again?” Sam asked, grinning sheepishly at him from under his lashes.

“Sure.” He held out his hand for Sam to shake. “ Hi, I’m Gabriel Novak. I’m 27 years old. I like long walks, pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.”

Sam took it, laughing. Gabriel could feel the calluses on his palm as they touched. “Sam Winchester. 21 years old. I’m from Lawrence, Kansas, and I want to be a lawyer when I grow up.”

“When you grow up?” Gabriel looked Sam up and down. “I hate to tell you this, Sasquatch, but I don’t know how much more you can grow!”

Sam’s chuckles evolved into a full-on laughter, the dimples in his cheeks giving Gabriel butterflies in his stomach.

“Seriously though,” he asked, his eyes glued to Sam’s face. “A lawyer? Not a boxer?”

Sam wiped his eye. “Yeah, an Assistant District Attorney actually. Putting bad people behind bars. Boxing’s just a hobby.”

“Sounds like a superhero.” Gabriel put on his announcer's voice, “Super Sammy, crime fighter by day, vigilante by night.”

“Hey, can it,” Sam warned playfully. “What about you? Did you grow up here?”

“Born and bred,” Gabriel offered, leaning forward on his knees. “Kansas... What’s in Kansas?

Sam gave him an offended look. “What’s in Kansas? What’s in Kansas?!” he paused dramatically. “There’s nothing in Kansas, that’s why we’re here.”

Gabriel grinned widely. The kid had had him going for a minute. “No other little Winchesters running around?”

Sam’s smile dimmed just a bit. “Just my dad. Other than that, it’s only me and Dean. You have any more siblings?”

“No,” Gabriel lied, looking into his hands. “Just Cas.” He didn’t want to think about the rest of them, especially not Luc.

“What’s being a photographer like?” Sam changed the subject, pushing his mop of hair back from his face. Gabriel wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked.

“Not as glamorous as Cas made it out to be, I promise you,” Gabriel lamented, glad to be off the subject of family. If he was lucky, he would never need to tell anyone about his siblings. “Mostly crying babies and stuck-up models.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t sound fun at all. Why do you do it?”

Gabriel paused for a moment, trying to put into words how he felt with a camera in his hands. “It’s like this, Sambo,” he started. “You know when you go on a roller coaster, and you go up the first hill. You’re so excited and then you take the plunge and it’s awesome, but it’s scary at the same time. That’s what it’s like taking a picture for me.”

Sam gave him a confused look and burst out laughing anew. “You’re awful at analogies!” 

Gabriel glared at him. ‘He’s lucky he’s so pretty,’ he thought, watching Sam laugh. “I’m a photographer. Never said I was good with words. That’s your department, Mr. Fancy-Pants Lawyer.”

Grinning at him shamelessly, Sam stretched back on the bench, looping his long arms over the backrest where Gabriel was sitting.

“Smooth, Winchester.”

“Like chunky peanut butter,” Sam shot back, leaning into Gabriel.

Gabriel could smell the liquor on his breath as he closed his eyes and leaned in…

“GABRIELLLLLLL!”

Gabriel opened his eyes to find Sam wearing an amused look as he was looking over his shoulder. Dean and Cas had finally made their way out of the bar, and were stumbling down the street.

He sighed and stood up. His phone, which had wiggled out of his pocket when he sat down, fell to the ground and landed with a loud crack on the sidewalk.

Gabriel hung his head in defeat. His drunk brother interrupted a kiss with the gorgeous moose he’d been pining over and now his phone was wrecked too. “I give up,” he huffed, picking it off the ground.

Sam gave him a pouty face as he threw Dean’s arm over his shoulder. “Maybe next time. I’ll see you later, Gabe.”

Gabriel watched him and Dean until they turned the corner before he rounded on Cas, who had collapsed onto the bench.

“You’re lucky I’m so forgiving,” he told his brother, helping him to his feet and half-dragging him toward the subway. “You’re buying me a new phone, by the way. For being the biggest cockblock ever!”

Cas nodded at him before his knees gave out and he tumbled to the ground, dragging Gabriel with him. Despite the fact he broke his phone, almost got kissed and was now lying tangled on the dirty pavement with his drunk-ass brother, Gabriel couldn't help but smile.


	4. Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to score a date boxing is maybe not the best idea.

This had to be the stupidest idea that Gabriel had ever had. He’d done some dumb things for love in his dating career, but this… this took the cake.

He shrugged his new gym bag over his shoulder as he got out of the subway, meandering through the tourists gawking at Three Crosses Church. Even Gabriel, who had grown up in the city, spared a skyward glance for the magnificent structure.

He had a soft spot for architecture like this, old buildings that were dwarfed by their modern counterparts, looking lost in all the glass and steel. There was something timeless about it and the grassy patch that was the cemetery next to it. It was strange to see weathered old grave markers in the middle of a city block, enveloped by the smells of street food and garbage. Gabriel made a mental note to come back with his camera, before turning the corner.

He walked along the sidewalk towards the gym, anticipation curling in his gut. Sam was all he had been able to think about since the previous week at the bar. After he had gotten Cas home and made sure his darling little brother didn’t choke to death on his own vomit, he’d realized he had forgotten to ask for Sam’ number. Sure, he could ask Cas but where was the fun in that?

It was early enough that the gym was mostly empty when he got there, cool and crisp, with only one or two other people working out. Dean was sitting at the front desk, distractedly thumbing through his phone.

“Hey there, Dean-o,” he greeted, hefting his bag up on the desk and pulling up a stool.

Dean stared at him for a moment. “Hi, Gabe. Cas isn’t here, if you’re looking for him.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “I’m not here for him. I’m here to sign up… as a member.”

Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically, but pulled out a clipboard anyway. “So, basic membership is 250 a month. It’s unlimited, you get to work with a trainer for a couple rounds every time you come in. There’s also semi-private training, where you work with a trainer and another person, which is 450; and private, which is one-on-one for 1250.”

Gabriel did the math in his head quickly. He’d have to dip into his trust fund, something he wasn’t fond of doing, but he hoped it would be worth it. He pulled out his wallet and handed Dean his pristine black AmEx card. “Private lessons, please.”

“Sure thing.” Dean hesitated, as he took his card, his eyes flicking curiously towards Gabriel’s face. Gabriel could almost hear his thoughts, ‘Where’d a schmuck like him get a black Amex?” Dean lingered for only a second more before handing him both his card and the clipboard. “I need you to sign here and here, and initial here.” He turned to look at the rest of the gym behind him “SAM!”

Sam walked out of the back of the gym, his hair damp with sweat. The wet tank top he was wearing left little to Gabriel’s already dirty imagination, and the gym shorts weren’t much help either. Even from where he was sitting, Gabriel could smell the sharp tang of salt rising from Sam’s flushed skin.

He stopped when he saw Gabriel, opening his mouth and then closing it before starting to speak. “H-hey, Gabe, what are you doing here?”

Before Gabriel could say anything, Dean butted in. “Don’t be rude, Sammy,” he chided, his eyes flashing mischievously. “He’s signing up for private lessons. Weren’t you just bitching at Bobby that you wanted more privates? Seems like it’s your lucky day!” Dean looked positively gleeful, obviously struggling to hold in his laughter. “You could do…Gabe’s privates.”

Sam’s eyes widened at Dean’s last words, “Dean!” he all but yelled.

Dean smirked at them both, looking extremely smug. Sam smiled sheepishly at Gabriel, who conveniently found his tongue.

“You don’t have to…do my privates…” Gabriel sputtered, turning red when he realized what he’d said.

Sam finally laughed, and broke the tension. “It’s fine. Go get dressed and come find me.”

~~~~

As soon as he started getting dressed, Gabriel remembered the reason he hated working out in the first place; he hated gym clothes. The baggiest shirts and shorts he could wear without making it obvious, accentuated his pudge. Annoyed, he poked and prodded himself in the locker room mirror, before giving up and running up the stairs. He was winded before he hit the top.

Sam was chatting with Dean at the counter, and he came over as Gabriel appeared, huffing and puffing.

“I usually ask how long it’s been since you’ve worked out. Should I ask?” Sam smirked.

“The answer would be never,” Gabriel wheezed, catching his breath. This was embarrassing. “I don’t like working out.”

“And you just decided to jump into boxing because?” Sam teased, leading him towards the back of the gym.

“Go big or go home!” Gabriel shrugged, praying he sounded convincing. He hoped that at least for now, Sam wouldn’t guess why he was there. He wasn’t that transparent, was he? “Gotta impress the ladies, ya know?” he joked.

Sam turned and grabbed a jump rope, thumping it against Gabriel’s chest. “Ten minutes, Romeo,” he ordered, before heading back to the front of the gym.

Ten minutes found Gabriel feeling like he was going to fall over and die. He had gotten tangled in the rope more times than he cared to admit, and he kept trying to catch Sam’s eye to no avail. It was like the man was actively ignoring him!

When he had finished, he hung the jump rope back on its hook and dragged himself towards the front of the gym where Sam was standing talking to his brother. “What next, Coach?”

Sam pulled two rolls of fabric from the basket on the battered counter top. “These are your wraps. They cushion your knuckles and stabilize your wrists.” Dean leaned over, watching intently. Gabriel was sure he was planning something, and he didn’t want to find out what.

He watched intently, his heart beating in his throat as Sam took his hands and began to wrap the long strips of worn black fabric around his wrists. He wrapped twice before moving to cover Gabriel’s knuckles and palms. His hands were warm and strong as they touched Gabriel’s skin, pulling the wraps taut as he went on. Gabriel’s heart thundered in his chest as Sam touched him and he had to think really hard about his grandmother in a bikini to keep from embarrassing himself in his flimsy gym shorts. Sam wrapped between his fingers and then around his hand again, before ending with several loops around the wrist. Skeptic he could actually do something with a ton of cloth around his knuckles, Gabriel flexed his hand. 

“Does that feel okay?”

Good lord, his voice had no business sounding that sexy while they were standing in a dirty gym. Gabriel swallowed, his throat dry. “Yeah, it feels goo- fine. It feels fine,” he mumbled. He must sound like an idiot, he thought, but at least Sam smiled.

He took Gabriel’s other hand in his, taking just a moment longer than necessary before starting. Sam made the same motions, wrapping Gabriel’s wrist and hand snug.

“Okay,” Sam said, securing the velcro. “First, we’ll start shadow boxing.” Gabriel followed him over to a dingy mirror behind the front desk, lined with a row of battered wooden benches. He watched Sam get into his stance.

“See how my feet are, left foot in the front, right in the back in a sort of tripod?”

Gabriel nodded.

“In boxing, this is where all your power comes from.” Sam patted his thigh, and Gabriel swallowed and mimicked him, turning towards the mirror.

“There are basic punches. We’re going to start with two today, jab and cross.” Sam threw his left hand out, hand turning over until his knuckles faced the mirror and then his right. “That’s a jab. Now you try.”

Gabriel threw his left and right badly, looking nowhere as graceful as Sam. “I suck,” he moaned.

Sam grinned. “You just got started. Don’t give up just yet. Stand here,” Sam directed, getting between Gabriel and the mirror. “You need to hold your hands in front of your face.”

He touched Gabriel’s forearms, pushing them up until his hands were next to his cheeks.

“Good. Now tuck your elbows in towards your belly. Your forearms and elbows are for defense against gut shots,” he instructed, lightly pushing his elbows together. He was so close Gabriel was afraid to breathe. He was engulfed in Sam’s scent, men’s deodorant, fruity shampoo and something warm and musky.

“Now, while in your stance, you need to squat, putting the weight on the ball of your right foot. That's the key to your cross.” Sam resumed his position next to Gabriel, getting set and squatting just a bit to illustrate the position. “Now watch.”

Gabriel nodded. He never needed an excuse to watch Sam. He quietly noted the quickness of the jab and the motion of the cross, which also involved turning his foot. Gabriel did it slowly, unable to keep his eyes off Sam.

“That’s good!” Sam praised. “Now I want you to throw five of each facing the mirror. You’re going to aim for your face.”

Gabriel laughed. He couldn’t help himself, Sam’s enthusiasm was infectious. “I look ridiculous!” He threw a half-hearted jab, and then a cross. “How am I supposed to remember all this?”

“Practice. Cas looked just like you when he started,” Sam swore. “Keep going!”

So Gabriel did, trying to keep from staring at Sam. It was hard not to watch him in the mirror, flushed and smiling, correcting Gabriel’s mistakes.

“That’s good!”

“Just turn your hand more, there you go!”

“Turn your foot like you’re putting out a cigarette.”

Gabriel tried to follow Sam’s instructions. How did Cas do this? He felt like an idiot, his muscles not used to the motions. He was gross and sweaty, but Sam smiling at him made him forget his gripes. He looked so happy and upbeat, in was easy to get lost between his humor and praise. 

Next, Sam grabbed some gloves from a nearby rack and helped him into them. Gabriel wrinkled his nose — they were damp and smelled bad, like decaying leather and body odor.

“I’d get some gloves to keep in your locker. These are…” Sam shrugged vaguely.

“Fucking gross? An affront to all that is good?”

Sam laughed as he finished fastening the velcro. “You could stay that.” He grinned and led Gabriel over to a small heavy bag.

“Okay, I want you to do five rounds on this bag.” He pointed to a set of lights above the ring in the center of the gym. “When the light turns yellow, that means there’s 30 seconds left in the round. Hit the bag without stopping for those 30 seconds. Rest on red. Got it?”

Gabriel smiled and saluted Sam with his stinky glove. “Aye, aye, mon capitaine!”

Sam chuckled and walked away to check on another gym member, leaving Gabriel alone with the bag and his thoughts. He was grinning ear to ear, his stomach full of butterflies. He could easily get addicted to this, the rush of a new infatuation thrumming in his blood. It had him on high alert, making him hyper-aware of every quirk in Sam’s face. It wasn’t just the face that was fueling him either, Sam was the whole package; sexy, funny, and smart. A guy could really fall in love.

He threw punches until he was out of breath, and then threw more. In five rounds, he was a panting sweaty mess, his hair plastered to his forehead, shirt sticking to his skin. Sam had been watching the last round, correcting him again, smiling until the dimples in his cheeks were showing.

“Good job, Champ,” Sam teased “I’m gunna go find my focus pads. You work on the speed bag, alright?”

Gabriel nodded, too out of breath to respond. It had been too long since he’d worked up a sweat like this, and of course it had to be around the most perfect man he’d ever met. He wasn’t going to win Sam over as a fat, sweaty mess. He’d have to impress him some other way.

He walked up to the small speed bag, assessing it before throwing a punch. It looked different than the other bags, just a small leather balloon about the size of a football, suspended about head height by two rubber ropes. ‘This can’t be too hard,’ he thought.

Gabriel got into his stance, trying to remember everything Sam had taught him. He squatted a bit and then threw a hard jab.

He realized too late that maybe, just maybe, putting all his strength behind it was a mistake.

WHAM!

The bag ricocheted and smacked him right in the face, knocking him to the ground.

It took him a moment to come to, his face pounding from the impact. He vaguely sensed there was liquid coming out of his nose, and his vision was blurry. A fuzzy shape loomed above him, breathing in his face.

“Gabriel?” came Sam’s voice. He sounded frantic. “Gabe? Hey, answer me, are you okay?”

Sam’s face slid slowly into focus, his brows furrowed with worry. “Hey, kiddo,” Gabriel mumbled, his lips feeling hot and swollen. “That last bag packs a punch.”

Sam cracked a smile. “I’m so sorry. I should have warned you.”

“What, and take away this chance to make an idiot of myself in front of you? Never!” Gabriel sat up gingerly, his head swimming, blood dripping down his face and onto the floor. Sam handed him a towel.

“You’re done for today, I think,” Sam said, helping him to his feet and onto the bench next to the mirrors. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Gabriel couldn’t be sure whether the light-headedness he was experiencing was from being hit in the face, or from the lack of oxygen caused by Sam’s proximity.

“Yeah, I think so too,” Gabriel chuckled through the towel. “You owe me though,” he added on a whim.

Sam gave him a dubious look. “Yeah? And what exactly do I owe you?”

Gabriel saw his opening and he took it. “Your number… you know, for training purposes.”

Sam dropped his head, his entire body shaking. It took a moment, but suddenly the gym was filled with his hysterical laughter. Gabriel sighed, slumping just a bit, his ego deflated.

“You’re something else, Gabe, you know that?” Sam bit out finally when his laughter ceased.

“I know, I know,” Gabriel said, pulling the towel off his face and touching his nose. It wasn’t broken, only bruised, much like his pride. He stood up and walked towards the stairs. “I’ll hit the locker rooms now, Coach.”

Sam just stared after him.

~~~~~~~

After wasting as much time as he could trying to drown himself in the gym showers, Gabriel decided it was probably time to go home. He’d made a fool of himself enough for one day.

Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he crept up the stairs and slinked around the desk. Sam was in the back of the gym, hanging up jump ropes, looking towards the front. Gabriel dashed around the front desk and tried to steal out the door.

He was halfway down the street, phone in his hand, before Sam caught up with him. Damn him and his freakishly long, sexy legs.

“Gabe!” he called, waving his arms up and down. Gabriel had the urge to dive into the nearest bodega to avoid the stares of the people on the street.

“Heya, Sammich,” he mumbled, turning around to greet him. “What’s up?”

Sam grabbed Gabriel’s phone from his hand, ignoring his shout of indignation.

“What gives, Sasquatch?”

Sam finished typing and handed the phone back to Gabriel, absolutely beaming at him.

“I’ll see you around,” Sam said and ran back towards the gym, leaving Gabriel standing in the middle of the sidewalk more confused than he’d been in a long time.

He looked down at his phone and a warmth consumed him, growing in his stomach and taking over his entire body. 

There in his phone was Sam’s number.

“You’re something else, kiddo, you know that?”


	5. Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas prepares for his fight, and loses his trainer.

“C’mon, man, I know you can do better than that!”

Castiel took a deep, grating breath and threw out his fists, his muscles burning from overuse. They were on their twelfth round now, sweat running down both of their faces.

He could see Dean’s freckled face was red with exertion through his headgear, his nose still bandaged from their last bout. It had been a couple weeks since he broke Dean’s nose, and he still felt guilty about it.

Dean had laughed in his face when he admitted it, loudly proclaiming the small bump gave him character.

Even though Castiel still wasn’t allowed to punch his trainer in the face, there was still plenty to practice, especially with his next fight looming. Dean had him throwing body shot combinations until his arms felt like they were going to fall off.

Castiel practiced everything else with Sam, when Sam had time,or when he wasn’t with Gabriel.

He’d never seen Gabriel this active before, never seen him this committed to any activity besides photography. Gabriel practically glowed as he bounced out of their apartment in the morning on his way to meet Sam for his session. It was disturbing.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the thirty second bell rang, and Cas pushed himself forward, raining blows on Dean’s padded abdomen. He threw three punch combinations, then four, then five before the last bell.

Dean grinned at him when they slumped out of the ring and sat down, unable to stand for another moment. Cas chugged back water, until he was light-headed from lack of air. He took a huge breath.

“That was good, Cas,” Dean praised, putting a sweaty hand on Cas’ equally sweaty shoulder. “We keep this up, and you’ll have no problem with this come fight night.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas mumbled, wiping the vaseline off his face with a towel. “You’re an amazing teacher.”

Dean bit his lip and he stood up. “Nah, you just got natural talent. I’ll see you downstairs.” He grabbed his water bottle and went down to the gym’s basement level, where the locker rooms were.

Cas mentally kicked himself for his last comment. He couldn’t just say thank you and leave it at that, no he had to make things weird, even if it was true. Dean was a great instructor, patient but firm, pushing his charges to do their best, even if he had to force it out of them.

It wasn’t even that that had made him want to say it, it was so much more. The way Dean grinned when Cas pulled off some complicated combination, how the freckles on his face stood out under the coat of vaseline, the touch of his hand on Cas’ shoulder before he left the gym for the night.

“You’ve got it bad, bro,” Gabriel had said to him through his hangover the morning after their disastrous trip to Whiskey. Cas had groaned at him and buried his throbbing head under his comforter. He was right though, Castiel was a goner.

Slinging his towel over his shoulder and dodging the other gym members, Cas slunk down the stairs and into the locker room. The shower was already running, and Cas could hear Dean humming off-key through the haze of steam.

Cas unwrapped his hands and undressed quickly, grabbing a towel from the rack and stepping into an empty shower stall as far from Dean as possible. The hot water relaxed him immediately, but did not alleviate the uncomfortable feelings in his belly.

Showering next to Dean, knowing he was naked only a few feet from him was torture. Normally he wiped down and reapplied his deodorant until he got home to shower, just so he could avoid this, but today was his unlucky day. He had locked himself out of the apartment and had to wait for Gabriel to get back from his studio. He couldn’t just walk around smelling like a gym sock, so he grinned and bore it, trying not to think about Dean.

He almost let himself forget, enjoying the spray of water on his back and the harsh smell of the gym shampoo, when he heard Dean turning off the shower and getting out. Cas swallowed thickly and washed the suds off, trying to ignore the frenzied beating of his heart.

When he finally managed to get out of the shower and shimmied, still wet, into his boxer briefs, Dean was drying his hair with his towel, clothed only in his worn shorts. He stopped when Cas entered, his face still pink from the heat of the shower.

“Hey, you doing anything tonight?”

Cas faltered, stumbling towards his locker and yanking it open. “No, I do not have plans tonight,” he answered, his heart beating a mile a minute.

Most of Dean’s anatomy was on show, and Cas ducked his head into his locker to avoid an uncomfortable situation. He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. ‘You can do this,’ he told himself sternly. He’d seen Dean half-naked before, this wasn’t any different.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Dean suggested from inside of his shirt as he pulled it over his head.

Cas’ heart jumped a little in his chest. ‘Play it cool, Cas “I don't know if I can take another hangover like last time,” Cas gently teased, pulling his jeans on and zipping them up.

“Nothing like last time, scout’s honor,” Dean smirked, wiggling into his pants. He ran a hand through his wet hair, spraying water everywhere.

“I doubt you were ever a boy scout,” Cas protested, grabbing his button-down from the hook in his locker. “But yes, I’d like a drink.”

They ended up at the bar, O'Hara's, two blocks down, right outside the 9/11 memorial. It was still pretty early for the bar crowd, but there were a couple of other people dotting the length of the long mahogany bar. Dean steered them into the back corner and waved the bartender over.

“Can I have -uhhh- A yuengling and -,” he turned to Cas. “What do you want? First round’s on me.”

Cas hesitated for a moment. “Uh- just a Bud Light please?”

The bartender nodded before walking away to put in their orders.

Dean raised a teasing eyebrow. “Really, dude, Bud light?”

Cas looked at him apprehensively, pulling up a bar stool to sit on. He had been alone with Dean plenty of times, but never in this context, never just the two of them.

Dean took his beer from the bartender and gave the man his worn debit card. He gulped down a mouthful before turning to Cas.

“So, Gabriel joining the gym, what’s up with that?”

Cas smiled and took a sip of his beer. “I know nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Dean answered. “Dude was pulling out the big guns the other day, waving around his black AmEx, signed up for private lessons.”

Cas’ eyes widened. Training with Sam must be serious business for Gabriel to use his trust fund. His brother hated using it for anything. ‘He must like Sam a lot then...’ he thought, storing the information to tease Gabriel with later. 

“Ah,” was all he said.

Dean grinned and drank, leaving foam on his upper lip. Cas wanted to lean forward and wipe it off, but stopped himself.

“I knew it. You guys rich or something?” Dean questioned, his normal blunt self.

“Or something,” Cas evaded. “It’s complicated.” Normally he found Dean’s lack of filter refreshing, but he didn’t know if he was ready to have this discussion with Dean. His family, aside from Gabriel, was kind of a sore spot.

Dean raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Like 'mob' complicated or 'bodies in the basement' complicated?”

Cas laughed out loud, almost relieved that Dean, for whatever reason, jumped to ludicrous conclusions. “No, nothing like that,” he chuckled.

Dean didn’t press any further. “Good.” He finished his beer. “Wanted to make sure I’m not gunna get whacked for taking you out… For a beer, I mean.”

“You may still have to worry about Gabriel though,” Cas countered, feeling warm from Dean’s comment.

“Eh, I can take the pipsqueak, I think.” He waved to get the bartender’s attention, flashing the number two with his fingers.

“I wouldn't be so sure. Gabriel may be small, but he fights dirty,” Cas smiled, taking his drink from the bartender.

“Tenacious little bugger, isn’t he?” Dean took his beer. “He’ll have to be if he wants to keep up with Sam.”

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment...” Dean took a swig and hopped down from his stool. He skirted the other bar patrons and headed for the bathroom, where Cas lost sight of him.

He was feeling warm and fluttery as he sipped on his beer, smiling to himself. Spending time with Dean like this was…wonderful. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy just talking with another person.

An unfamiliar pair of shoes stomped up next to him, and he turned to find someone who was very much not Dean seated in Dean’s stool.

“This seat taken, gorgeous?” the man asked, pulling it closer to Castiel.

“Uh,” Cas stuttered. “Uh, yeah, it is,” he finally managed to get out. Where was Dean?

“I don’t see anyone here,” the man pressed forward, leaning into Cas’ personal space. Cas tried to back up, but he was in the corner against the wall.

“He’s -uh- in the bathroom,” Cas mumbled, as the man smirked at him. “Could you move, please?”

“Sure, he is,” he smiled, reaching over and touching Cas’ shoulder. “I’m Alastair. What’s your name?”

Cas roughly removed the man’s hand from his body, glaring now. “I think you should leave.”

“Yeah, ya think, sweetheart?” Alastair sneered. “I think no.”

“Well, you thought wrong!”

WHAM!

Alastair was on the floor, with Dean standing over him, looking murderous. “This seat is taken,” he growled. Security, who had been eyeing them with interest, closed in on Dean, trying to escort him to the door when all hell broke loose.

Alastair had clambered to his feet and took a swing at Cas, which he blocked with his forearm. He parried with a quick uppercut to Alastair’s stomach, knocking the wind out of the larger man. He dropped to his knees on the floor, wheezing as he tried to regain his breath.

Security moved in again. “I’m going, I’m going,” Dean muttered, collecting his debit card from the bar tender. He made his way towards the door, and Cas slipped out behind him, still eyeing Alastair, the guards moving to throw him out as well.

Dean burst out laughing as they hit the balmy night air, throwing an arm around Cas’ shoulder. “I can’t take you anywhere!”

Castiel tried to look affronted, but couldn’t, and joined Dean in his laughter. “I was not the one who punched him in the face!”

They heard the commotion as the guards threw Alastair out of the bar and onto the dirty pavement. He landed in a heap, apparently stunned by the impact.

Not wanting another confrontation, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, ducking quickly into the garbage filled alley behind the bar. They slipped behind the full dumpster, pressing their backs to the worn brick wall. They watched silently as Alastair bumbled down the street, cursing loudly.

As they waited for him to pass, Cas was suddenly, vividly aware that Dean was still holding his hand. He could feel the dampness pooling against his palm, the callouses on Dean’s fingers from his boxing wraps, the flutter of his pulse against Cas’ wrist. It made him dizzy.

As soon as it was clear, Dean started laughing anew, tears streaming down his cheeks. He let go of Cas’ hand to wipe them from his cheeks.

Cas felt the loss keenly, a cold burst of air drying the moisture on his palm. He followed Dean out of the alley, stopping next to him to look up.

Even at night the Freedom Tower was magnificent. Cas and Dean stood just beyond the metal security gate, the enormous building towering over them. It was all glass, with a tall spire, reflecting the light from the city. Castiel had never been there in the daytime, the crush of tourists unappealing to him.

“Where were you?” Dean asked, his voice suddenly low and somber.

“In my homeroom class, Fifth grade,” he replied, knowing exactly what Dean was referring to. It was the question everyone asked when they met a New Yorker. Even now, he remembered it so vividly. The crying of his classmates, the tremor of the ground under his feet, the smell of smoke in the air. It hadn’t seemed real until Hannah, their nanny, had come to take them home, her face ashen.

“Gym class,” Dean murmured. “It was like watching a movie. I remember my dad calling Bobby frantically, not being able to get through, thinking he was dead.”

Castiel nodded. “It was strange,” he started. “The streets were empty. My father was unreachable. He was working on Wall Street at the time and I just remember Gabriel sobbing. It didn’t click until later.”

Cas was very aware of how close Dean was to him, their shoulders brushing as they stood on the sidewalk, staring up into the sky. His heart was pounding in his chest.

“Now or never, Cas,” he told himself, clenching his hands. He didn’t know whether it was the adrenaline or the alcohol that made him want to do it, but for once, he didn’t question it. He leaned towards Dean and kissed him.

At first Dean was still, frozen, and then he came alive all at once. He sucked Cas’ bottom lip, pulling a moan from the pit of his stomach, his hands clenched in Cas’ jacket. Then he was gone, pushing Cas away from him.

“What the fuck, Cas!?!” he yelled, his eyes darting wildly. He was breathing heavily, walking backwards.

“Dean-” Cas was beyond confused. One moment, Dean was responding to him, the next he was screaming at him. He wanted to melt out of existence, shame pooling in his belly.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again!”

“Dean-”

But Dean was already running off down the street into the darkness.


	6. Upper Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which brownies fix everything.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Siralop/media/RPBB2.png.html)

Just a moment ago, Gabriel had been squatting, taking photos of the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park. Now he was lying in the dirt, cradling his precious camera against his chest, knocked over by a pompous business man.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” he screamed at the man’s retreating back, his free hand flying to emphasize his point. “Would a fucking 'Excuse me' kill you?! Come back here, you dick!” Asshole could have broken his camera! Gabriel stood up hurriedly and opened his mouth to yell more abuse when the man turned around.

Michael.

It was Michael, the oldest of his half-siblings and the worst, in his opinion. Gabriel knew Michael worked somewhere around here, but had never cared to know exactly where. He tried to stay as far away from him as possible, and in a city of eight million people, it wasn’t hard.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Michael greeted him, his eyes flashing. “I didn’t see you there, small as you are. How are you?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I suppose people are easy to miss, with your head stuck that far up your ass.” He couldn't help a smirk.

Michael’s nostrils flared angrily. “I thought you would have gotten a real job by now, or at least someone rich to stick your claws into. It worked for your mother, after all.”

Gabriel should have known that was coming. Michael had never once passed up a chance to hit him with his mother. Anger roared in his blood stream, and the hand that wasn’t still clutching his camera clenched until his knuckles cracked.

“How is mummy dearest these days, hmm?” Michael taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. “She’s getting a bit old to depend on birthing bastards for income.”

By now, the commotion had drawn a small crowd of onlookers, eyeing them curiously.

Gabriel took an unconscious step forward, gritting his teeth. He wanted to hit him so badly he could taste it on his tongue, the sharp metallic taste of blood and bile mingled in the back of his throat, but it was Sam’s voice in his head that stopped him. ‘Rule number one,’ he had said, ‘ boxing isn’t about hurting people.’ Gabriel took a deep breath and released his hand.

“Well, it was good seeing you, Michael,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I’ll be going now.” With that, he scooped his dusty camera bag off of the pavement and hurried away before Michael could utter another word.

He pulled his new phone out of his pocket as he stomped away, his stifled fury bubbling just under his skin. The word 'bastard' rang in his ears, as it had fallen from Michael’s lips just like when he was a kid, a constant reminder of his secondhand status, whispered behind closed doors, spat with hatred, tattooed into his skin with knees and knuckles.

He had reigned in his anger with Michael, but he had to hit something, now.

“Hey, Sam. Can you squeeze me in for a session today?”

~~~

WHAM!

 

The sound of his glove smacking the vinyl heavy bag reverberated through the gym. It was quickly followed by another, a barrage of hits with barely a second in between. Gabriel had lost count of how many rounds had gone by as he channeled his frustration into the biggest heavy bag he could find.

He’d barely warmed up before he’d been pulling on his gloves and having at it. He hadn't waited for Sam as he normally did, or stopped to bullshit with Bobby, he’d just wrapped his hands as fast as he could before he exploded.

Gabriel ignored the steady throbbing of his knuckles as he adjusted his gloves and threw punch after punch. The bag, held together with a thick layer of silver duct tape, took every abuse he could put out, bouncing on its chain.

_Bastard!_

Michael's voice rang out in his head, brought out of cobwebs and dust by today's encounter. Cross, hook.

_Abomination!_

Naomi Shurley, his step-mother, called out, her fists raining down blows on his six year old back as he shielded Cas. Jab, uppercut, cross-hook.

The sting of silence from Raphael as he watched the arc of the belt flying through the air. Anna’s swallowed hiccups and silent tears, echoing in his head as he hit the bag, tears welling in his eyes. Jab, cross, uppercut.

_Shhhhh, it’s okay, little brother…_

Luc’s soft soothing voice, accompanied by comforting hands, so real in his mind he could almost feel them on his sweaty back.

The voice was driven back by the wail of sirens in his head, the last day he saw Luc as they bundled him off to another rehab center. Jab, cross, uppercut, bob, weave, uppercut body jab.

Gabriel kept swinging, oblivious to the passing of time around him, until his muscles screamed and his breathing was harsh and ragged. His cheeks were wet with sweat and tears when he heard Sam behind him.

“Gabriel!” he yelled, his voice muffled by Gabriel’s pounding fists. “GABRIEL! Stop. Stop!” Sam grabbed the bag out of his reach, and Gabriel stopped cold.

“You’re going to hurt yourself like that, swinging like a maniac,” Sam murmured “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Gabriel replied angrily, trying to make sarcastic air quotes, but forgetting that his hands were ensconced in linen and leather. “Leave it, Sam.”

“No, I will not leave it,” Sam challenged. “You aren’t as subtle as you think.”

Gabriel’s cheeks flamed red as he realized what Sam was referring to. He wiped at his face, trying ineffectively to get rid of the evidence that he’d been crying.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked tentatively. He loosened his grasp on the bag and let it swing free.

“Not particularly.” Gabriel slunk over to the worn wooden bench next to the ring. “But you aren’t going to leave me alone, are you?”

Sam smiled sheepishly, joining him on the bench and moving to undo the straps on his gloves.

“I saw my brother today,” Gabriel admitted, drained.

A look of confusion overtook Sam’s face. “I thought Cas lived with you…”

Gabriel winced as Sam gently pulled his gloves off. His wraps were spotted with blood. “I haven’t been exactly… forthcoming in that regard, Sammich,” he admitted. “Cas is my only full brother, but I also have three older half-brothers and a half-sister.”

He hissed as Sam started to pull at the bindings on his hands. “So you saw him, and what? You decided to come here and fuck up your knuckles?”

Sam was right. His knuckles were a bleeding mess, scraped and cut from his shoddy wrapping job. “I wanted to fuck up his face,” Gabriel murmured. “But I came here instead.”

“Ah,” was Sam’s only reply as he got up. He came back with a dusty first aid kit that Gabriel assumed had been under the front desk. “Good choice. Prison sucks.”

Gabriel raised a wondering eyebrow. “You speaking from experience there, Sasquatch?”

Sam shot him a look. “No… Just pretty people don’t do well in prison,” he mumbled.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Sam blushed hotly. “Stop changing the subject. So you saw him?”

“Yeah, I saw him, and then he opened his mouth,” Gabriel huffed. He wanted to pull his hands out of Sam’s, but his warmth was comforting. “Called me short, called my mom a whore, you know, the usual stuff.”

“So you share a father?” Sam questioned, gingerly removing the last of the wraps. He took a couple antiseptic swabs from the first aid kit and opened them. “This is gunna sting,” he warned.

“Just get on with i-” Gabriel hissed as Sam pressed the swabs gently to his knuckles. “Yeah, ahhh!” White hot fire shot over the lacerations, and he swore. “Son of a bitch, that hurts! We have the same dad.”

“I bet the divorce was rough on him,” Sam prompted.

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Gabriel laughed, but it was humorless. “There was no divorce. Dear old Dad is still married to Michael’s mother.”

He watched Sam’s face, sickeningly smug when the light of realization lit up in Sam’s hazel eyes. “So you and Cas…”

“Yea, we are Daddy’s little indiscretions. Bastards. 'Abominations' was always a favorite of Michael and his mother,” he stated bitterly. “When they used words. Most of the time, they just used a belt.”

Sam’s eyes went wide and his grip on Gabriel’s hands tightened, sending tendrils of pain through his arms. He didn’t pull away.

“I was five when Mom dumped us. Cas was three. As you can imagine, Dad’s wife was less than thrilled about him taking us in,” he said. “She quickly found an outlet.”

“She- you and Cas-?” Sam didn’t seem capable of producing full sentences at the moment.

“Nah,” Gabriel shook his head. “Just me. I made sure she never laid a hand on him.”

“And your dad? Your brothers and sister? They never did anything?” Sam sounded outraged, and Gabriel could feel his hands shaking where they still held his.

“Dad… Well, he wasn’t home a lot, still isn’t,” Gabriel explained. He found that once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. He felt numb, hollowed-out, as if he was telling a story, as if it hadn’t happened to him. His anger of earlier had burned out, faded until it was little more than ash. “Michael’s the oldest, he made sure I knew what a mistake we were. Raphael ignored us, and Anna followed his lead in that regard. We were bastards, meant to be forgotten,” he swallowed. “Lucifer was the only one who ever gave a damn about us. He tried, but he had enough to deal with on his own.”

“Lucifer? Your dad really liked the Bible names, didn’t he?”

“We call him Luc,” Gabriel shrugged. “He’s an addict. Been in and out of rehab since he was a teenager. He protected me when he was home, but his demons got the better of him. I haven’t seen him in a couple years.”

Gabriel couldn’t meet Sam's eyes. He didn’t have to, to know what was in them: pity, revulsion. He couldn’t stomach it, not from Sam. Nausea now replaced the empty feeling in his gut; he had to get out of here before he threw up, before he embarrassed himself any more.

Gabriel wrenched his still aching hands from Sam’s and stood up. “I’ll be going, I guess,” he mumbled, ashamed of his weakness.

Sam’s head snapped up, but his eyes weren’t full of disgust like he’d thought.There was a bittersweet empathy lurking in their depths. Sadness.

“Stay.”

“What?” Gabriel was caught way off-guard by Sam’s question.

“Stay.” Sam’s face broke into a small grin. “Please? I mean… I have some movies upstairs and a fridge full of beer that needs drinking.”

“I don’t need your charity, Gigantor,” Gabriel replied lightly, returning his smile. “I’ll be alright. I’m a big boy, remember?”

“Please?” Sam put on his best puppy dog face, hazel eyes drawing Gabriel in. “I make mean slutty brownies,” he tempted.

Gabriel felt a warm flutter bloom in his chest, and after the soul-wringing events of today, he savored it, allowing it to fill him up. “How can a brownie be slutty?”

Sam looked smug, as if he knew he’d hooked Gabriel. “When you stuff oreos and cookie dough into them.”

“That’s it. I’m sold,” Gabriel replied, grinning. He felt lighter than he had in weeks, and that was saying something, seeing as he’d spent every available moment with the moose in front of him. “Take me away to your sex dunge- I mean kitchen. Take me away to your kitchen.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and burst out laughing. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“Nope.” Gabriel shook his head smugly.

“Hit the showers and I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Sam said, standing up and gathering stray gloves and weights from the side of the ring. “Bobby’ll have my head if I don’t tidy up a little.”

“Sure thing, Sam-a-lam.” Gabriel grabbed his gloves and headed towards the locker room.

Sam paired the gloves and weights, depositing them in their proper places when he heard a buzzing noise. Gabriel had left his phone on the side of the ring, and it was going off, vibrating and blinking. Without thinking, he scooped it up.

There were two new text message alerts up on the screen, both from “Charlie”.

 

_Is Operation “Ask out the cutie” a go?_

_Cute friends :)?_

 

Sam almost grinned to himself before the stupid sentence he’d been obsessing over since Gabriel’s first session spoiled his mood. “Gotta impress the ladies, ya know?” Gabriel had told him, as his reason for joining. That’s when he’d realized he’d missed his chance to be anything more than a friend. Gabriel had moved on.

Angrily, he stuffed the phone in his pocket, kicking at a lone glove on the floor. He was an idiot. Gabriel was clearly just a flirt. Sam grabbed his keys as he passed out of the door, startling the girl at the front counter.

Gabriel was waiting outside as promised, his hair curling in wet ringlets against his neck. “Hey, Sammich!” he cheered as Sam approached.

“You forgot your phone,” Sam grunted, taking it out of his pocket and roughly shoving it into Gabriel’s hands. The other man gave him a confused look as he snuck a look at the texts still on the screen.

“Is that what you’re all bent out of shape about?” Gabriel teased, his smile lighting up his whole face. “Look, Samsquatch…”

“If you like someone else, why do you always flirt with me?” Sam blurted out, unable to control the awful feeling in his gut. Gabriel laughed loudly, and it made Sam even more annoyed with him.

“I know getting hit in the head dulls your wits, but how can you be this dense?” Gabriel stepped closer to him, so close Sam could almost taste him, the sweetness, like burnt marshmallows on his tongue .

“What?” was all he could say.

“She’s talking about you, you big, dumb idiot,” Gabriel murmured, pulling him down by his collar to meet his mouth.

Sam could feel the corners of Gabriel’s mouth curling upwards into a smile against his lips, his heart wildly fluttering inside his chest. The warmth spread as Gabriel pressed forward, fitting perfectly against him, his arms snaking up to pet Sam’s hair.

Time seemed to slow down around them, every second seeming like an eternity, but somehow not quite long enough. He could have stayed there forever, feeling the beat of Gabriel’s heart against his own. 

_It was the heat of the moment_

_Telling me what your heart meant_

_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes_

The ringing of Gabriel’s phone broke the silence, and Sam could feel it vibrating where Gabriel’s leg was touching his. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

“You should get that,” Sam smirked, running a hand through his hair.

Gabriel pouted at him, but took the phone from his pocket anyway. He scrutinized for a long moment the number on the screen. Sam could see there was no name associated with it, yet the way Gabriel was staring at it, Sam got the feeling he knew who it was.

The photographer's face had gone slack, his finger hovering shakily over the end call button. Finally, he silenced it and quickly stuffed the device unceremoniously back into his pocket.

“Everything alright?” Sam asked, taking his hand in his, slotting his long fingers through Gabriel’s.

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, Sammich, never better.” He began to drag Sam towards the apartment lobby door. “Now make with the brownies, Betty Crocker, or I’m changing my mind.”

Sam laughed the whole way up.


	7. Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is an asshole and Cas can't curse under pressure.

“Cas hasn’t been to the gym in a while,” Sam said as he handed Dean his morning cup of coffee, bitter and black, just like he felt. “Is everything alright?”

Dean grunted as he took the mug of steaming liquid from his nosy brother. His temples were throbbing in the tell-tale Morse code of what would surely be a spectacular hangover.

“Everything’s just peachy, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. “I don’t know where he is. Dude doesn’t live in my ass.”

Sam snorted into his own mug. “Gabriel said Cas has been locked in his room for days.”

“Tell your boyfriend to mind his own damn business,” Dean replied, expecting Sam to deny the accusation. 

“It kinda is his business, Dean,” Sam retorted, finishing his coffee and putting his cup in the sink. “Cas is his brother.”

“Well, I have nothing to do with it,” Dean grumped, getting up and taking his coffee back to his room, leaving Sam standing in the kitchen.

His room was blessedly dark, still bearing the scent of alcohol and body odor. Wrinkling his nose and placing his coffee on a side table, Dean threw open his window and lay back down.

He felt awful and it wasn’t just the hangover.

Why did Cas have to ruin everything by kissing him? Dean curled up under his blanket, tucking his legs against his chest.

A tendril of self-loathing curled in his gut alongside the nausea. He knew he wasn’t being fair to Cas or honest with himself. He had wanted Cas to kiss him for a long time, but when it had finally happened, Dean had pushed him away, his old fear taking control.

Dean had thought he was past all of this, after all he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. New York was a liberal city, a kiss between two men wouldn’t result in the fiasco he had had to deal with back home.

He rolled over restlessly, sprawling in the middle of his bed, his head pounding out its distress signal. Dean hadn’t had a moment’s peace since he’d pushed Cas away, the other man’s face tormenting him at every opportunity.

Guilt consumed him every time he went into the gym. Cas hadn’t stepped foot back at Three Crosses, Dean had checked. Even in the hours Dean wasn’t there, no one had seen him. Sam telling him that Cas hadn’t left his room made it even worse. If Cas stopped boxing because of him, he didn’t know what he would do. He wasn’t worth that.

A wave of sickness drove him to the side of the bed, spitting into the garbage can next to him. Dean couldn’t remember most of last night and he hadn’t even gone out. Sam had announced he had an “emergency” private with Gabriel, whatever that meant, and Dean had broken into his personal stock of whisky. It was the fourth time this week.

And to top it all off, he missed Cas.

He hated the way he missed him, like part of his own body was gone, like it had been ripped out. Somehow, without Dean noticing, Cas had wormed his way inside the cracks in his heart, and showed no sign of letting go.

No Cas, he thought to himself, burrowing deeper into his bed, as if trying to cover himself from his own shame. No more training, no more coffee and muffins, Dean ticked off in his head. No more of his awkward head-cocks or sideways smiles. No more imploring blue eyes, or just -fucked-but-not-quite sex hair. No more - no more - him saying my name. Dean swallowed and shut his eyes as another wave of nausea hit him. He tried to pretend it was still the hangover, but he knew it wasn’t.

Cas said his name like he wanted to savor the weight of each syllable on his tongue, like he was special, and the thought of never hearing it again broke something inside him.

He wanted to sink into his bed and never come back out again.

“Just go over there, dude.”

Dean sat up, startled by the voice. Sam was standing in the doorway, looking suspiciously cheery, all dressed up to begin his shift at the gym.

“Stop moping and go, Dean,” he prompted again, leaning against the frame. “This isn’t going to fix itself. Figure it out with him already, so you can both stop being sexually frustrated pains in my ass.”

“I’m not…”

“You’re not what, Dean? Gay? Sexually frustrated?” Sam smirked at him. “On the second count, your constant eye-fucking says otherwise. On the first, who cares? Do you like him or not?”

Dean scowled at his brother. “I do, but…”

“But what? Go tell him, jerk!” Sam laughed.

“Bitch,” Dean retorted, getting up from his bed. Might as well get this over with. Dean hauled up a pair of pants off the floor. They looked clean enough.

“And Dean?” Sam asked, another smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He looked smug, too smug, and Dean didn’t like it.

He looked up as he shimmied into his pants. “Yeah?”

“Just make sure I’m not in the apartment.”

~~~~~

Dean found it hard to breath when he walked down the hall to Cas’ apartment door. His heart was hammering so loud he thought it might pop out of his chest at any second. His palms sweaty, he rapped the knocker.

He heard a flurry of movement behind the door and then it opened, with the wrong Novak brother behind it.

Dean, who had had his entire speech in his head, was thrown off guard. “Uh… Hi Gabe?”

Gabriel’s golden eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I need to talk to Cas.”.

“That’s nice,” Gabriel turned to close the door in his face, but Dean caught it.

“Gabe, please. I fucked up.” Dean was surprised at how easily his admission came out. He almost never admitted it when he was wrong, but if that got him to Cas, he would swallow his pride and come clean.

Gabriel hesitated before turning to Dean. “Let’s get something straight, Dean-o,” he said, his voice harsh in a way that seemed out of place on the normally jovial man. “If I wasn’t 100% sure that Cas loved you, which by the way is beyond me, I wouldn’t be letting you in. Also, he might kick my ass if I don’t.”

“Gabe, thanks, I owe you one,” Dean sighed, relief flooding him. He knew how much Gabriel’s approval meant to Cas. If he didn’t have that, he didn’t have a shot.

Finally Gabriel smiled. “You owe me nothing, bro.” He stepped aside and let Dean into the apartment. “But next time you hurt him? Neither hell, nor high water, or a gorgeous gigantor brother, with talented fingers, I might add, will stop me from burying you.”

“Dude, really?”

Gabriel laughed heartily, his eyes flashing. “Get used to it, stud muffin. I’m part of the package.” He puttered past Dean. “Cassie, there’s someone here for you!” he called, walking down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door loudly behind him.

Dean’s palms were sweating again as he walked toward Cas’ bedroom, eyes flicking to the framed photographs of the city skyline on the wall. It was breath-taking, but in his growing apprehension it was only a fleeting thought. He stopped slowly in front of the door, wiping his hands on his jeans. He was about to knock, when the door was flung open.

Cas was standing there sweating, his shirt sticking to his chest and his face flushed pink with exertion. His hands were wrapped, and behind him Dean could see his speed bag still vibrating. His room was impeccably neat, and not at all like Dean had pictured it.

Cas’ blue eyes opened wide and he tilted his head to the side like he always did. “Dean?”

Dean’s heart fluttered weakly in response. “Hey, Cas.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still looking confused.

“I came to…” Dean ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I’m here to… Cas, I… I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Cas didn’t move, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even breathe. He just blinked for a moment, still as a statue.

Had he missed his chance? He had to be sure. Quickly, he leaned forward and pecked Cas lightly on the mouth, just enough to barely taste the sweat on his upper lip.

Dean’s heart sank when Cas didn’t respond.

“I’ll just be going then,” he mumbled, taking a step backwards.

Suddenly, Cas surged forward, his warm body pressed against Dean’s before he could even register what was happening.

His lips landed against Dean’s, the stubble on Cas’ chin scratching his face. Dean pushed back hard, his hands moving to fist in Cas' hair, like he'd always wanted to. 

"You… you.… assbutt," Cas panted into his mouth, tearing at Dean's clothing, lifting his shirt up to touch his skin.

Dean laughed out loud. "Really, that's the best you could come up with?" 

Cas growled at him and Dean would be lying if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever heard. Cas looped his fingers through Dean's belt loops and pulled him into the room, closing the door gracelessly behind him. 

Their lips didn't break until the back of Dean's knees bumped the king-size bed that dominated the room. He flopped down awkwardly, Cas coming down heavily on top of him.

Dean laughed, feeling lightheaded as Cas attacked his neck with hard sucks that would surely leave marks. He didn’t care.

“Cas, dude, slow down!” he chuckled, pushing him playfully away as Cas pulled up the hem of his shirt. “What’s the rush?”

The other man snorted against Dean’s exposed stomach, looking up at him with heavily-lidded eyes. “Dean Winchester,” his voice was husky and Dean’s skin broke out in goosebumps just hearing it. “Do not make me wait any longer.”

Dean was about to make a comment, but all thoughts fled his head as Cas popped the button on his jeans.

They didn’t hear Gabriel chuckling to himself as he texted Sam.

_Mission accomplished :)_


	8. Bob and Weave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby has a date, and Sam is a romantic

Gabriel’s head was pounding. He wanted to bang his head against the wall until his skull split open and his brains leaked out. The baby he was supposed to be taking pictures of wouldn’t stop screaming.

His normal tactics, plush toys and rattles, weren’t working and he was at the end of his rope. The mother wasn’t helping either, yapping away on her cellphone as he struggled to keep her baby quiet and interested. He was about to lose his cool when his own phone started to ring.

_It was the heat of the moment_

_Telling me what your heart meant_

_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes_

He smiled as he look at the name that was flashing across his screen. He turned to the woman, who had finally put down her phone.

“I’ll be back in a second. I need to take this.”

Gabriel walked into his small office and closed the door behind him. “Hey Sammoose, What’s shakin?”

“Oh okay,” Gabriel said into the phone as Sam explained what was going on. “Yeah, I can do that, gym closes at nine, right?” he tried not to let the disappointment seep into his voice. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Gabriel sighed and jammed the phone into his pocket, rubbing his face as he returned to the room. Sam had to move his session until nine, and he was disappointed to say the least. He had been really looking forward to spending time with Sam, even if it was with Sam making him do burpees.

At least the baby had stopped screaming her little head off, he noticed immediately as he opened the door. In fact, she was sleeping in her stroller. Despite his tough luck with Sam, Gabriel smiled.

“This I can work with.”

~~~~~

The sun was going down by the time Gabriel got to the gym. It was almost completely empty save for Sam and Bobby. Normally Dean would have been there instead of Bobby, but he’d been spending a lot more time with Cas, (Gabriel had invested in noise canceling headphones, for his sanity). At least he wouldn’t have to put up with the the heated looks they exchanged, regardless of whoever as in the room. He didn’t know if he could take walking in on them fucking in the living room one more time.

Once he’d finished changing, he walked back up the stairs to warm up. Sam was looking all sorts of delicious, and Gabriel had to stop himself from licking his lips. Despite their kiss last week, Sam had made no other moves. They had spent the night eating pizza and getting caught up on Game of Thrones.

“Hey kiddo,” He started. “Wanna get started?”

Sam smiled back at him. “I’m sorry about the time change. Bobby has a date tonight and I have to close up.”

“I told you that cop liked you, Bobby!” Gabriel yelled towards the front desk. “What’s her name? Jody?”

“None of your business, ya idjit” Bobby responded from the desk. He poked his head through the opening. “Sam, I’m gunna lock the door on the way out.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, It’s only gunna be me and Gabe. I’ll close up when we finish.”

“Thanks boy,” Bobby mumbled. Gabriel could hear him shuffling about before he heard the clang of the front door as it closed.

“I was thinking we’d try something different tonight,” Sam said, a feral grin curling his lips. Gabriel did not like that smile.

“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?” Gabriel replied, starting to wrap his hands.

Sam just smirked at him.

~~~

18 rounds later, Gabriel was dragging. Even though his stamina had gotten better, 18 rounds would turn most normal people into jello.

Sam had gone to the front to get them water, and Gabriel thought it would be okay to slack, just for a moment, to catch his breath.

Gabriel dropped his hands, throwing lazy punches and breathing deep. He was starting to think that Sam enjoyed reducing him to a shaky mess just because he could.

He didn’t even hear Sam come up behind him, not until he was flushed against Gabriel’s backside, whispering into his ear

"Don't put your hands down, If you were in the ring with me, I'd work you over,” Sam hissed, his warm breath sending shivers up Gabriel’s spin and shocking him awake. For a split second, he could feel every inch of Sam’s body pressed against him, the fluttering of his heart in his chest, the warmth of his skin, even the hardness of…

Gabriel blew a gasket when he fully realized what part of Sam was pressed against him and then it was gone. He turned around wildly, only to find Sam standing a couple feet behind him, looking smug.

“You did a great job today, Gabe. Why don’t you hit the showers?” Sam said, as if nothing had happened. “Then we’ll clean and lock up?”

Gabriel just nodded at him, completely dumbfounded. Had he just imagined it?

He wandered downstairs, feeling very confused and turned the shower on. He would need it if he wanted to finish the evening with any semblance of his dignity.

He dropped his sticky clothes to the ground and stepped into the spray, flinching away from the temperature. His teeth started to chatter as the water ran over him. Gabriel replayed the last few minutes in his head, his hand crawling down his abdomen to cup himself.

He snatched his hand,away, instead cranking the water colder, as cold as it would go without giving him frostbite in horrible places.

‘Stop that!’ he admonished as he resisted the urge to touch himself again. The feel of Sam hard against his back was still too much in the forefront of his mind. Gabriel dunked his face in the water spray, driving all thoughts from his head.

When his erection (finally!) went away, he dressed quickly, trying not to shiver. He was only slightly cold when he mounted the stairs.

Everything was suspiciously clean and Sam was nowhere in sight. Had he left already?

“Uhh… Sammich?” he called, peeking around the front desk. “Sam-a-lamb?”

Gabriel craned his neck, looking into the back of the gym with growing curiosity.

Were those... candles?

Sure enough, there were candles and...chocolate? Was that chocolate laid out on the bench next to the ring? 

Gabriel walked towards the back if the gym, his mouth hanging open.

What the flying fuck was going on? 

It would have clicked if he had had more time to process before Sam blindsided him.

Sam was everywhere at once, his mouth on Gabriel's lips, his hands in his hair, body rubbing against the erection Gabriel had tried in vain to kill. It didn't take long until he was pressed against the metal pillar next to the ring in the best way possible, with Sam on top of him.

"Candles and chocolate," Gabriel panted between kisses. "Really, kiddo?"

He could practically taste Sam's eye roll. "I'm a romantic, " he huffed, pulling Gabriel's hair a little harder. "Sue me."

Gabriel laughed as he fiddled with the waistband of Sam's gym shorts, feeling something heavy in his pocket. On a whim, he stuck his hand in and pulled out something that made Sam blush indecently: lube and a condom.

"Well Sammy," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."

Sam swallowed, his eyes wide.

"You brought lube to the gym just for me. Did you really think I'd be that easy?"

"Gabriel, I - No, but - I thought you-" Sam began to stutter, running his hand through his already rumpled hair.

"You'd be correct," Gabriel said, bursting out hysterically laughing. Sam looked murderous for exactly a second before scooping Gabriel into his arms and kissing him senseless.

"You complete - asshole!" Sam growled, pinning him against the beam again and rolling his hips against him. "I'll make you pay for that!”

Gabriel groaned, thrusting back. “I hope so, kid.”

Sam didn’t say anything else, using his mouth for better things as he started kissing down the side of Gabriel’s neck. 

Gabriel kept his hands steady on Sam’s shoulders to keep his knees from buckling under him. Sam sucked a trail of open-mouthed kisses down to his collar bones, nipping him lightly through his tee-shirt. He was completely on fire, his skin burning pleasantly where Sam’s lips touched him. 

Sam’s touches were maddeningly slow, so Gabriel grabbed his head and forced him lightly up again to kiss him full and deep. He had wanted to kiss him for so long. He wished he could take his sweet time exploring Sam’s mouth, but Sam had other ideas. 

He pulled off his shirt, dropping it to the gym floor and leaving him blessedly bare. Gabriel took the opportunity to worship Sam with his hands, running them from shoulders to chest, and down the contours of his abs, dipping between each one slowly before coming to rest at the waistband of his shorts. 

Sam reached for the hem of Gabriel’s shirt, but Gabriel stopped him in a moment of insecurity. With all the glory of Sam in front of him, he didn’t want Sam to see how he compared. 

“Leave it on,” he said, tugging at the elastic strings on Sam’s bottoms. 

“Why?” Sam questioned, his hands not letting go. 

“Because.”

“Because why?” Sam pushed, looking Gabriel up and down for a moment. 

Gabriel sighed. He never liked taking his shirt off during sex. Most of his partners assumed he was insecure, and he was more than happy to let them think that, but Sam already knew. 

“Because this.” He whispered, turned away from Sam and pulling off his shirt. 

He heard Sam gasp behind him. 

He knew his back wasn’t pretty, the cross-cross of thickened scar tissue that decorated his shoulders and spine. It had taken him years to be able to look behind him in the mirror and not get sick. 

Gabriel half expected Sam to leave, to decide he was too much baggage. The kid would have been completely within his rights to do so, but he didn’t. 

Instead he felt the press of Sam behind him, and his lips moved along Gabriel’s back like fire, kissing each scar with a gentleness that made him weak in the knees. 

Finally, Sam turned him around and cupping his face, kissed him fully on the mouth. 

“Sam, I-”

“You’re beautiful,” Sam murmured. 

“You need your eyes checked, kid.” he replied, hands moving to trace Sam’s abs. 

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Sam whispered. “I’ve been training with you for 3 months. I know what you look like. We’ve been in a locker room together, and I had to half drown myself to not jump you right then and there. I’ve been racking my brain for a way to ask you out, and I-”

“And you settled for seducing me in the gym?” Gabriel burst out hysterically laughing, breaking the tension between them. 

It took a moment but eventually Sam’s frown melted into a wide smile and spread across his entire face. 

“Come here, Jolly Green,” Gabriel chuckled, pulling Sam in to kiss him again. Sam’s hands ghosted over his love handles, and fiddled with the waistband of his pants, lavishing his middle with silent praise. 

He didn’t look like Sam, but he’d definitely lost weight since he started going to the gym. At least if this fell through, he had that. 

“As long as you’re happy,” Sam murmured between kisses, caressing his neck and sides. “I’m happy.” 

Gabriel thanked him by palming him through his shorts, causing Sam to groan and push against his hand. The photographer needed no further encouragement to yank the shorts down just enough for Sam’s hard cock to spring free. He hissed at the cold air, before swallowing a moan. 

He was not one to be outdone, so he made quick work of Gabriel’s shorts, taking him in his giant hand and stroking him roughly, the callouses on his palm creating a delicious drag across the sensitive skin. He practically melted into Sam, who steered them to one of the wooden benches beside the ring. 

Sam sat down, shorts still pulled down his thighs, his cock erect and heavy against his toned belly. “Sit on my lap,” he instructed gently, his voice low and rough in a way Gabriel had never heard it before. It sent excited butterflies in a new wave in his stomach. 

Gabriel kicked his shorts the rest of the way off, and slipped out of his shoes, leaving him only in socks as climbed onto Sam’s legs and sat on his thighs, leaving room for both of their cocks between them.

Retrieving the lube from his pocket again, Sam squeezed some onto his palm and took them both into his massive hand with a strangled groan, sending tendrils of pleasure up Gabriel’s spine. 

He leaned forward, taking Sam’s face in his hands, kissing him as they rocked together. The pressure between his hand and Sam’s cock was just right, already building in his abdomen at the slightest touch. 

Sam was making the cutest little whimpers as he stroked them both, twisting as he reached the heads. Gabriel felt his heart expand in his chest a little watching him bite his lip, trying to hold back his noises. 

Gabriel smirked into his kisses, carding his hands through Sam’s hair and tugging a little. “Gods, your hands, Sammy,” he groaned into his ear, gently nibbling on his earlobe. 

Sam thrust up suddenly at that, almost knocking Gabriel off his knees, but caught him with his free hand, digging into his ass. 

Gabriel was lost, then and there, inhaling the scent of Sam engulfing him, driving him towards the edge. Sam’s movements became more erratic, his kisses rougher and more insistent. His grip was already tight and Gabriel gasped as Sam squeezed tighter, the last thread of his restraint snapping. 

He came with a groan, his head buried in the crook of Sam’s shoulder. Sam followed afterwards, crushing Gabriel against him, breathing heavily in his ear. 

Gabriel pulled his chin up and kissed Sam one last time before climbing off his legs so he could get up. He grabbed a discarded towel and wiped himself down before handing it over to Sam. 

Sam was breathtaking, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright, his hair wild and sweaty, clinging to his forehead. Gabriel wanted to keep him like this forever. 

As soon as he was clean, Sam tugged him in for another kiss, hands dragging through his hair as he tilted his chin upwards. “You want to stay over tonight?” he asked, nibbling on Gabriel’s lip. 

Gabriel’s heart was singing inside him, threatening to rip through his chest in excitement as Sam kissed him again. He was about to reply when his phone went off inside of his abandoned bag. 

Sam let him go gently, playfully smacking his bottom. “Get it,” he teased. “I’ll go get washed up.”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment and swallowed. Had he just said what Gabriel thought he said? His cock twitched interestedly against his leg and he cursed whoever was calling him. 

He watched Sam walk away, hips swaying, his shirt thrown over his shoulders. Grinning, he dug through his bag and answered the phone without looking at the number 

“Hello?”

“Gabriel?” a deep voice rasped into his ear. His heart, which had been so happily beating for Sam, dropped into his stomach. 

Luc. 

“Gabriel?” he repeated. “Gabriel… I need-”

Gabriel gritted his teeth, breathing deeply. “Luc...you can’t keep calling me like this.”

“I need… I need it… I need your help, little brother” his voice was rough, like he’d been binging. Gabriel had heard that voice before and it scraped him raw inside. “Please…”

He clamped down on the sick feeling that was rising in his gut. He couldn’t do this, not again. He thought about Sam upstairs waiting for him, and swallowed. 

“No.” 

Luc paused, before continuing his litany as if he hadn’t heard Gabriel speak. “Please… I need it… Please.”

Gabriel wiped a tear from his cheek as it fell. He hadn’t even felt it well up.

“Lucifer, you’re my brother and I love you... but you’re a great big bag of dicks.” He said, and then he hung up the phone. 

He turned it off as he headed upstairs.


	9. Ringside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel visit the Museum of Natural History

“What do you mean you haven’t been to the Museum of Natural History?!” Gabriel was flabbergasted, looking over his shoulder at Sam, whose giant form was sprawled languidly across his bed. “How can you call yourself a New Yorker?” 

Sam chuckled lazily, dragging Gabriel back into the warmth of the blankets by the waistband of his sleep shorts. “I don’t,” he pointed out. “Come back to bed. You said we’d stay here all day.”

They were at Gabriel’s apartment and they had the whole place to themselves. Sam had the day off from work and school for once and Gabriel had promised him they’d spend the entire day in bed.

“No can do, kiddo,” he laughed, burrowing his cold hands under Sam’s arms. “This most grievous error has to be corrected!” 

Sam groaned and covered his head with a blanket. 

Finally Gabriel convinced him and after much bribery coffee, they were off to the Museum.

The American Museum of Natural History, right across from Central Park, was one of Gabriel's favorite spots in the city. They’d come a lot when he and Cas were kids, and no matter how many times he’d been there, it never got old. Even the main lobby was impressing, containing a giant T-Rex skeleton.

The museum wasn’t very busy, the best part of going on a random day of the week. The children were all in school and on a beautiful day, most people took advantage of Central Park right across the street. 

Gabriel practically dragged Sam away from the North American Mammals, anxious to get to his two favorite parts of the entire museum. Sam protested, pointing they could at least stop and look, but Gabriel was having none of it. 

The Hall of Biodiversity was dark, and cramped, but he loved it just the same. The whole hall was filled to the brim with preserved flora and fauna as far as the eye could see. There was a display of a large frightening tiger and a huge jellyfish that spanned six feet was swimming across the ceiling. There was an entire wall of plants, prominently featuring a red corpse flower, one of Gabriel’s personal favorites. He savored the look of awe the washed over Sam as he took in the sights. 

Sam was like a little kid, skirting from one exhibit to another, practically tripping over himself in his excitement. 

Finally, Gabriel had to take his hand to drag him into the next hall. 

“You think it’s amazing in here, just wait, kiddo,” Gabriel chuckled, leading him in. 

The museum was famous for the Milson Hall of Ocean Life, but just hearing about it didn’t do it justice. Sam stopped dead in his tracks, squeezing Gabriel’s hand in his as he beheld the main attraction. 

Dominating the center of the hall, was a gigantic blue whale hanging from the ceiling. 

“Oh wow,” was all Sam uttered, before he took off. 

Gabriel indulged him and followed him to each exhibit along the wall on both floors before saving the best for last. 

The whale was even more impressive from underneath, and there was a mat that practically begged to be laid on. 

Gabriel sat down under the whale and laid back, starfishing across the floor. Sam looked down at him for a moment, and finally laid down on the floor next to him. 

“This is kind of gross,” Sam whispered, turning his head towards Gabriel. 

Gabriel squeezed his hand, looking over at him with a smile on his face. “Shhhhhh, just enjoy it.” 

Sam scootched over next to him, until they were touching, side to side, holding hands. They laid in silence, with the occasional person walking by them, looking up at the ceiling. Gabriel wanted to live in the moment forever, feeling the warmth of Sam’s hand in his, with the beat of his heart as the soundtrack. 

He had almost dozed off, when Sam sat up. 

“C’mon… I want to see the dinosaurs,” He whispered gently, leaning over Gabriel’s face and lightly kissing his nose. 

Gabriel groaned as he sat up, his joints protesting as he struggled to his feet. “Anything for you, kiddo.” 

~~~

They spent the rest of the day criss- crossing the museum's large campus, trekking from one side to the other. Gabriel’s feet hurt, but the light in Sam’s eyes as he took in each exhibit was intoxicating and well worth the foot bath later. 

When they finished, they meandered into Central Park, the sun’s dying rays drawing long shadows on the ground. Gabriel stopped in front of the Alice in Wonderland statue, the late hour making it free of the children usually seen scaling it. 

He’d loved the statue all his life, the characters of his favorite book coming alive in bronze. Alice sat cross - legged on a large mushroom, the Mad Hatter and March Hare looking on from either side of her. They stopped in front of it for a moment before Gabriel let go of Sam’s hand. 

“Gabriel!” Sam called at him as he moved to scale the statue. Children could do it, why couldn’t he? “Gabriel, what are you doing?” he laughed. 

Gabriel grinned at him as he plopped down in the hollow of Alice’s lap, worn smooth by decades of children. “Come up Sammy!” he invited. 

Sam cocked an eyebrow at him. “No. Unlike you, I’m not a child.” 

Gabriel stuck out his tongue. “Live a little, kiddo,” he taunted. “Come on, come sit with me.”

Begrudgingly, Sam climbed the statue with ease, using the smaller mushrooms as stepstools, until he was sitting next to Gabriel. He wove his hand through Gabriel’s and kissed his wrist. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured. 

Gabriel felt all the air whoosh out of his lungs at those words, leaving him breathless and staring. No one had ever said those words to him with such sincerity, not his family, save Castiel, not Kali, not anyone. Warmth exploded over him, infusing every fiber of his being with happiness. 

“Ground control to Major Tom.” Sam smiled, squeezing his hand. “You alright there, Gabe?” 

“I’m fine, Sammich,” he whispered back, pulling Sam closer. He broke the embrace of their hands and took his boyfriend’s face between both hands, kissing his nose gently first and then his lips. “I love you too.” 

Sam smiled into the kiss and pulled Gabriel off of Alice’s lap and into his. 

Gabriel’s heart felt full for once in his life, so full he thought it would burst and kill him. 

There were worse ways to die.


	10. Haymaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calls from long estranged brothers early in the morning never amount to anything good.

Michael was the last person Gabriel expected to get a call on a Saturday morning. He was sprawled across his bed, naked, with his head resting on Sam’s shoulder when his phone roused im from sleep. 

Normally, he ignored calls this early, but the fact that it was early and it was Michael made alarm bells go off in his head. He snatched his phone from the bedside table and held it up to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Gabriel could feel Sam shifting behind him as he listened to Michael speak, the soft tone of his voice setting him off kilter. At least his hands waited until he’d put his phone down to start shaking. 

Sam hugged him around the middle when he failed to turn around, frozen as his gut churned. His face immediately fell. 

“Gabriel,” he sat up and slid towards the side of the bed. “Gabriel, is everything okay?”

“I have… I have to get Cas,” he mumbled, his hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets on either side of him. “I have… I have to get Cas.”

Gabriel barely registered Sam moving until he was crouching in front of him, looking up at him with a face full of worry. “We’ll get Cas. He’s with Dean. What’s going on?” 

He couldn’t get the words out, he just crumpled into Sam’s arms with a sob, clutching him like Sam as the only thing holding him to the skin of the world. 

It didn’t take them long to retrieve Cas, and get to the hospital. Bellevue was the oldest public hospital in New York and one of the best. The receptionist at the front door sent them right up, Dean and Sam in tow, both Winchesters looking worse for wear. 

The ICU was on the 2nd floor of the hospital, ringed with nurses and doctors, the beep and whir of machines the only noise. 

Lucifer was in one of the six private rooms, hooked up to a ventilator and at least 3 IV drips. His siblings stood around him, none of them talking. His father as usual was absent, no surprise there. Michael headed the pack, looking sharp as always in his designer three piece suit. Raphael stood next to him, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Anna, looking tired and waifish, reclined in the room’s only chair. And there, in her crowning glory dressed to the nines, was Naomi, sitting primly on a stool by her son’s bedside. 

Gabriel turned to Sam and Dean. “Wait here, please,” he whispered, squeezing Sam’s hand. Dean nodded at him, beckoning Sam to the waiting room across the hall. 

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel stepped into the room, Cas trailing quietly at his heels. 

He hadn’t even had time to say anything before Naomi flew from her chair and struck him across the face. 

“This is all your fault,” she spat, the color rising high in her face. ”Abomination.” 

Gabriel held his cheek, savoring the pain as blood pounded where she’d struck him. Cas was at his side in an instant, chest thrown out.

She raised her hand again. 

Gabriel caught it, the numbness in his bloodstream igniting into a full-fledged firestorm of anger. 

“Don’t you dare touch him. I didn’t let you hit him then, I won’t let you hit him now.”

Raphael and Anna flanked their mother, each of them daring him to move any farther. Naomi herself bared her teeth at him like a rabid dog. “If you’d never been born -” 

“He’d still be an addict,” Gabriel snarled back at her, dropping her arm. The years and years of abuse at Naomi’s hands bubbled over, frothing and churning until they exploded out of him. “Don’t you blame that on me. I didn’t ask for any of this, not to be born, not to be dumped on you. I tried to help him. I tried-”

Michael then did something he’d never done before. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. He squeezed it lightly, almost as if to comfort him. “Gabriel, enough.” 

Gabriel was shocked into silence, his next diatribe dying in his throat. He watched wordlessly as Michael put his arm around his mother’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go get some coffee, hmm? Anna? Raphael?” 

Eyes widening, Raphael motioned to Anna and with Michael and Naomi leading them, they all exited the room, leaving Cas and Gabriel to say their goodbyes. 

No sooner had they left, Gabriel saw Dean and Sam standing in the doorway, their faces white with shock. If they had heard his little outburst, he had no doubt that the nurses had and that this whole scene would be in the paper by tomorrow. 

“And I thought our family was dysfunctional,” Dean murmured. Sam gave him a hard look. 

“That wasn’t dysfunctional, Dean,” Gabriel said, his voice rough from screaming and not enough sleep. “That was Sunday dinner for us.” 

Gabriel walked towards them, giving Castiel a moment to say goodbye. He watched as his brother reached for Lucifer’s hand, holding it limply in his own. Cas bent and kissed him on the forehead before stepping back and walking away. 

“Wait for me in the lobby, will you?” Gabriel mumbled towards Sam and the others. He wanted to do this alone. 

Sam nodded, blowing him a kiss as they retreated towards the elevator. 

Gabriel turned back to his brother, the fight going out of his shoulders as soon as he was alone. 

He pulled up Naomi’s discarded stool, and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on the bed, his forehead resting on his folded hands. 

“I’m sorry, Luc,” he started, exhaling shakily. Michael had been clear on the phone, he was brain-dead, they were only keeping him alive long enough for everyone to say goodbye. 

He remembered the last time he’d spoken to his brother, the last time he’d heard his voice was the night he slept with Sam for the first time. Gabriel had rebuffed him, had hung up on him and regardless of what he’d shouted at Naomi, he couldn’t help but think it was his fault. What kind of person hung up on his addict brother, when all he needed was help? 

Hot tears burned under his eyelids and he let them fall, stinging on his cheeks where Naomi had hit him. 

“I’m so sorry, Luc,” he cried, dropping his head so it rested on Luc’s cold hand. “I should have been there for you, like you were there for me. I should have helped you… please… please wake up.” Gabriel squeezed his hand, hoping beyond all reason that his eyelids would flutter, that he would squeeze back, but nothing happened. Just the mechanical rise and fall of his chest and the hum of the machinery. His brother, as he knew him, was gone. 

Gabriel wiped his face on his sweater, sniffling. He had chosen his own happiness, and in doing so, he’d let Luc down. This was all his fault. 

He sat with him a few minutes more, talking to him, thanking him, reminiscing over the the parts of Gabriel’s childhood that didn’t suck. 

He got up to leave, but couldn’t, not yet. Hesitantly he took out his phone and snapped one picture. 

He bent to kiss his brother on the head. “Thank you.” he said simply, and walked out of the room and down the hallway. 

Sam was waiting for him in the elevator bay. 

“Samm-”

He didn’t even wait for Gabriel to get the rest of the words out before enveloping him with his body. Sam was the only thing keeping him standing as he sobbed uncontrollably into Sam’s warm flannel shirt. Sam to his credit, merely held him, stroking his back comfortingly. 

Gabriel had never been more sure that Sam was too good for him. 

Surrounded by the comfort of his arms, he rued the day when Sam would realize it too.


	11. Standing 8 Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking doesn't solve anything, it only makes things worse.

Gabriel groaned as he slipped from sleep, mostly in part from the awful kink in his back. 

He opened his eyes slowly, rubbing at the goo that held them closed. Where was he?

Everything was white, it hurt his eyes to look at the brightness, his head pounding a staccato beat. He felt a wave of guilt prickle over his skin, as he sat up and surveyed his surroundings. 

He was in his bathtub. 

The whole bathroom stank of vomit and cigarettes and he was relieved that he had at least gotten to the toilet before he puked everywhere. 

Gabriel rose from the tub slowly, stretching out his abused back. He was partly dressed, still in his boxers and t-shirt. His phone was lying, blinking on the countertop.

He groaned as he picked up. 6 missed calls, 14 text messages… all from Sam. 

He put the phone back down. 

Gabriel knew Sam was trying to help, but he didn’t want or need his help. He found all the help he would need at the bottom of a bottle of rum. It was just easier that way. 

The week since Lucifer died was a blur, a sucking black hole in his memory, ringed with shame. He had cancelled all his appointments and just gave himself up the the darkness. 

He padded into his room, surveying the damage. It looked like a bomb went off, messier than it usually was. Broken pieces of plastic and glass littered one corner, his favorite camera lying on it’s side. 

Gingerly, Gabriel crossed the room to pick it up, grimacing at what he’d done. The lens was totalled, but the camera itself would be okay. Curiously, there was no film in it, even though he could have sworn he’d loaded it sometime in the previous week. He packed it into his camera bag, and tossed the lens and it’s broken pieces into the garbage. 

He spotted his other camera, the one Lucifer gave him, laying on his bed. He vaguely remembered crying over it. 

Holding his head, Gabriel walked down the hall, noting the silence as he entered his dark room. Castiel was probably with Dean. He’d barely seen his brother since the hospital. 

Thankfully, his dark room had been spared the wrath of his drunken self, everything where it was supposed to be, even if it was a bit dusty. The only thing that was out of place was his film cannister, perched precariously on his record player. 

‘Ah,’ he thought, picking it up and giving it a shake. ‘That’s where that film got to.’ 

Leaving it for another day, Gabriel left the darkroom, going to get dressed and retreated instead to his couch and a half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan. 

He poured himself a drink and settled back against the pillows, glass in one hand, remote in the other. He picked up where he left off in Gypsy Sisters, allowing their world to swallow him up. 

He was halfway through the third season of MythBusters when there was a banging on the door. 

“Gabriel, open the door!” came Sam’s voice. 

He didn’t move. 

“I know you’re in there, Gabe. I can hear the TV!” 

Sighing, and putting his drink down, Gabriel got up from the couch to answer the door, a warm buzz percolating through his veins. He yanked the door open,to find Sam there, his face flushed. 

“Hey kid,” Gabriel drawled, leaning against the door frame. 

A pucker appeared between Sam’s eyebrows and he wrinkled his nose. “When was the last time you showered?” He griped, pushing his way into the apartment. 

“Hello to you too, Sam,” Gabriel shot back. 

Sam ignored him, sitting down on the couch, and picking up the almost empty liquor bottle. “You can’t go on like this.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me,” he responded. “And Cas.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes and he took the bottle out of Sam’s hands. “Please tell me this is not a fucking intervention.” 

Sam looked him over. “Do you think you need an intervention?” 

“Don’t lawyer me, college boy,” 

Sam frowned at him again, his handsome face pulled into a grimace. “This has to stop.” 

Gabriel didn’t appreciate his tone. He was a grown man, who’d just lost his brother. Certainly he was allowed a little time off to grieve. “I’m fine, Sam.” 

“You’re not fine,” Sam pushed back, rising from the couch and turning on him. “This isn’t a healthy way to deal with this.”

“Always with the healthy with you, isn’t it?” He smirked at his boyfriend, trying to lighten the mood, but Sam would not let up. 

“I know where this ends, Gabe.” Sam ignored his comment. “My dad is a drunk.” 

“Don’t project your daddy issues on me, Sam,” Gabriel snapped back, anger boiling in his gut, flushing his skin. “I have enough of my own.”

Sam’s nostrils flared and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “You think your brother would have wanted this for you?”

“He’s dead because of me,” Gabriel shouted back, his rage and guilt igniting into a pulse ball of fury. “He doesn’t want anything anymore.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“What kind of person hangs up their drug addicted brother when he needs help, to go get laid?” He countered. 

Sam clamped his mouth shut again, breathing hard and heavy through his nose. Gabriel could tell he was struggling to keep control of himself. “I can’t be around you when you’re like this.”

“Then don’t.” 

He could practically hear Sam’s heart splinter as he looked at him, the expression that swept of his face giving Gabriel stabs of guilt. 

“That’s not what I mea-”

“Whatever.” Gabriel snapped, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Leave your keys on the table when you go.” 

He didn’t stay to hear Sam’s response, banging out of the doorway and into the hall. 

It was better off this way. Sam had always been too good for him, too smart, too handsome, for a fuck-up like him. Someday Sam would thank him for this, for setting him free. 

Gabriel made it as far as the basement stairwell before he broke down in tears.


	12. On the Ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Cas' fight and Gabriel is nowhere to be found.

Sam didn’t want to go, but Dean made him. He owed it to Cas to be there, Dean lectured, and Sam knew he was right. 

Cas had come so far and worked so hard for this fight. He’d doubled his training since his brother died. Sam didn’t know when he slept; it seemed like every time he saw Cas he was either training or eating. He spent more time at the gym that he did anywhere else, but Sam couldn’t bring himself to ask the last time he’d seen Gabriel. 

Sam hadn’t seen or heard from him since Gabriel told him to leave his keys on the table. He’d almost gone to the apartment a couple times, but chickened out at the last second. Gabriel had made his feelings pretty clear and Sam didn’t want to push him any farther down the path he was headed. 

Cas seemed to think he’d come around. Apparently this was normal behavior for him, but Sam wasn’t so sure. 

In the meantime, he’d spent his restless energy fixing Gabriel’s camera. After Gabriel had stormed out on him, he’d gone to retrieve the jacket he’d left in Gabriel’s room, when he saw it lying on the bed. 

Gabriel had showed him once before, the busted old camera Luc had given him. Sam took it without thinking. 

With Dean’s help and a lot of Google, he’d managed to get it in working order, intent on giving it to Gabriel when he saw him tonight at Castiel’s fight, but the first bell had already rung and Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. 

When the fight came and went without Gabriel, Sam couldn’t just sit any longer. Apologizing to Dean, he shrugged on his coat and went to find him. 

It wasn’t hard. Gabriel hadn’t disabled the Find My Friends app on his phone, and Sam only felt a little guilty using it to track him down. With the racket he was making, he barely needed it. 

Gabriel was outside a bar a couple blocks from the boxing venue, facing off against two guys much bigger than he was. If his black eye and split lip were any indication, more than a few punches had been thrown. 

The other men took one look at Sam and decided they had better things to do, and left Gabriel and Sam on the sidewalk before heading back into the bar. 

Sam could smell the alcohol on Gabriel’s breath as he got closer, the glaze of his eyes and sway in his step giving him completely away. 

“You’re supposed to be at Cas’ fight.” Sam frowned. 

“Heya Sammy!” Gabriel slurred, smiling though the blood pouring out of his nose. 

“Don’t ‘Heya Sammy’ me,” Sam pulled Gabriel’s arm over his head to help steady him. “I didn’t teach you to fight for you to brawl in the gutters.” 

“You know what, Sammy?” he drawled, pulling Sam’s head in tightly. 

“What, Gabriel?” his voice was muffled against the scratchy wool of Gabriel’s sweater. 

“You’re tall,” he decided after a moment of pause. 

“Thanks for noticing,” Sam replied, half carrying the other man down the street. 

“And handsome,” Gabriel added, his feet dragging on the pavement. “And smart, and funny.” 

Sam didn’t respond. At least drunk Gabriel liked him, even if sober him didn’t. 

“I’m doin’ you a favor,” 

Sam turned his head to look at Gabriel. “What?” 

“I don’ deserve you,” Gabriel slurred. “You shouldn’t be saddled with an ol’ drunk.” 

Sam’s nostrils flared angrily. “I should have been given a choice,” he spat back. “I’m not a child.” 

Gabriel shook his head at him. “Knew you’d say that. Sorry, Sammich.” 

He had to stop himself from screaming. It wasn’t fair for Gabriel to make that choice for him. Sam loved him, stupidly, irrationally loved him from the moment Gabriel had waltzed into the gym and signed up. How the dense man didn’t see what Sam saw when he looked at him, Sam didn’t know. 

Gabriel wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, battered and broken, but it was being tempered in the fire that made steel what it was. Sam loved him for that underlying strength, his devotion to the people he loved. It made him sick to see Gabriel blame himself for the death of his brother after he’d struggled for so long to save him. Even more, it made him angry. 

“You don’t have the right to call me that anymore,” he pushed back, tears welling in his eyes as they approached the fight venue. He gritted his teeth as he set Gabriel on his feet. 

Swallowing the lump of fury in his throat, Sam guided him inside and got him to his seat. The fight before Cas’ was just ending

“Cas’ worked too hard for you to not to be here. He still needs you. Luc didn’t protect you for you to crap out on him now.” Sam growled, heat coursing in his blood. He stomped away to Cas’ corner before Gabriel could even formulate a response. 

~~~

Gabriel watched Sam go with his mouth hanging open. Shame poured over him in one thundering wave, curdling whatever was in his stomach. 

For a half second, he wished he was more drunk so he wouldn’t remember the look of Sam’s face when he stomped off, but fate would not give him that small kindness. Instead it replayed Sam’s arm around his neck, the smell of his deodorant, the feel of his breath on Gabriel’s face. 

He still wanted Sam so badly it hurt, but he kept telling himself it was for the best. Sam deserved better, it was only a matter of time before he saw it too. 

Luckily Cas’ fight started and gave him a welcome distraction from the roil of guilt in his gut. 

He watched in awe as his brother was announced and stepped into the ring, his uniform a deep blue. The way he moved was a product of the ring, the confidence and grace in each step not part of Cas’ normal movement. He looked fierce and almost heavenly, like the paintings of the archangel Michael fighting the dragon. It made Gabriel wish he had his camera. 

Cas’ opponent was equally ferocious, a little taller than Cas, his arms massive. 

Gabriel’s eyes drifted to Dean and Sam in the corner, each of them talking to Cas quickly. Dean’s hand was on his shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on the muscle of his shoulder. 

The ref went to each fighter in turn, talking to them rapidly in words that Gabriel could not hear.He could see Cas scanning the crowd, his eyes stopping when they landed on him. 

Gabriel gave his brother a thumbs up and watched as his eyes lit up. He turned back to the ref, listening to his last minute instructions. Gabriel watched Cas go back to his corner, head bent, listening to Dean. 

The first bell rang and Cas was lost in a blur of motion as fists flew. The other man landed the first hit, a quick hook to the side of Cas’ head. Cas paid him back with a jab and then an uppercut. The man staggered for a second, and then hit back. Gabriel lost all track of the punches after after that. The only thing that was clear was that Cas was taking a lot more hits than he was throwing. 

Dean didn’t look worried, despite the hit count. He watched Cas with a proud fierceness that makes him reach for the phone in his pocket. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best he could do. He felt the familiar itch on his finger, a spike of adrenaline in his bloodstream, the one he hadn’t felt since Lucifer died. 

The warning bell rung, and Cas was on the defensive, his forearms and glove shielding his head and face from his opponent's frenzied hits. Not one punch landed on its mark. 

The ending bell rang and Cas returned to his corner. Dean began to talk in his ear, Sam pouring water into his open mouth. 

Gabriel’s heart expanded and cracked when he saw Sam, his brow furrowed. He loved that look, the set of Sam’s face when he was wholly absorbed in a task. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, the longing in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole. 

He got as close to the ring as he could, phone in his hand. The second bell rang and they were off again. Cas took the same stance, playing more defensive than offensive, his eyes hard and watchful beneath his thick headgear. 

The third round had him throwing simple combinations, watching his opponent get madder and madder as Cas danced just out of his reach.

By the fifth round, Cas gave him a standing eight count. 

Ninth round, his opponent was on the ropes.

The next round, he went to the mat and didn’t get back up. 

The crowd around Gabriel exploded with cheers and applause, jumping to their feet as the referee announced Cas’ name and held up his arm. 

But Cas’ smile was for no one but Dean.

Gabriel fought his way through the crowd, trying to get to his brother and friends. He found Cas with the EMTs getting a thorough check-up while Dean beamed at him. 

As soon as he was able, Gabriel scooped his brother into a tight hug. “You did great, Cas.” 

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

Gabriel colored. “Yeah, well Sam made sure I got here in once piece.” he turned to look for him, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. “Speaking of the moose, where did he go?”

Dean stepped up to Gabriel, the smile on his face tight. He had a small package in his hand, wrapped carefully in blue tissue paper. He pressed into Gabriel’s hands. “He left this for you.” 

Gabriel gave Dean a confused look, as he took the box from him. “He left?” he turned to Cas. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel gave him a sad smile through his fat lip. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Gabriel looked again at the box in his hands. Gently, he tore the paper off, revealing a plain white box. Why would Sam give him a present after all Gabriel had put him through?

He gingerly took the top off and almost immediately felt sick. Nestled in white paper was his camera. His first camera. 

It wasn’t dusty or dirty like he left it, but clean and polished. He flipped the back open to find the internal mechanism that had been broken had been replaced with new ones, leaving the camera in perfect working order. 

He picked it up from the box, letting it settle familiarly into his hand. Guilt swept over him in a huge crashing wave. 

He sunk down onto the bench on the ringside and cried.


	13. Final Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean and Cas kidnap Sam.

“This is Sam Winchester. Leave your number after the tone and I'll get back to-” 

“C’mon Sammy,”Gabriel pleaded with Sam’s answering machine . “Please pick up.”

He sat on his bed, listening to Sam’s voicemail for the fourth time that morning. He’d texted him at least three times, but nothing. 

He’d called ten times the day before, and texted twenty- seven, but no answer. 

He also hadn’t touched a drop since the night of Cas’ fight two weeks before. 

He couldn’t. Sam had been right, about everything, and Gabriel had lost him. 

Gabriel tried to ask Cas about him, but Cas refused to talk, and he knew he fucked up bad if Cas didn’t take his side. He spent more and more time with Dean, until Gabriel felt like he was living alone. 

He tried to withdraw into photography, like he always did, but it felt wrong. He wanted to show everything to Sam, every good angle, the way the light played in the background, the soft, tender expression he’d managed to capture on a newborn’s face. There were times he turned to tell Sam something over his shoulder, only to realize with painful clarity, he wasn’t there, would never be there again. 

Even the overwhelming amount of things he needed to do for his upcoming yearly exhibition wasn’t enough to let him lose himself in his work. Nothing looked right, nothing made him happy, and he’d had to rescue several perfectly good pieces from the trash where he’d thrown them in a fit of anger. 

The only shots he had worthy of showing were of Sam. Sam at the gym, in the park, in his bed, but they made his heart ache. Gabriel wanted to lock them away, jealously guard those stolen moments for himself, but pain made the best art. 

Showing them was the only way he would ever let Sam go, and Gabriel knew it and hated himself for it. 

A terrible and brilliant idea crept into his mind as he sat in his darkroom staring at the dripping pictures. Each picture was a single bit of stolen time, but together they told a story, when he made them. Telling it would give him the closure he needed, and it would kill two birds with one stone, maybe even three. 

He called his agent, and began dig through his old negatives. 

There was work to be done. 

~~~~

“Out!”

Sam turned from his spot on the couch to see his brother and Cas advancing on him, both dressed nicely. Sam gave them a questioning look. 

“I mean you, Samantha,” Dean smirked, adjusting the knot on his tie. “No more of this girly mopey bullshit!”

Sam grumbled and laid back down. He wasn’t moping, he was tired. It had been a hell of a week, double private sessions and class to boot, not to mention the constant ache from missing Gabriel drained the life right out of him. Not that he would admit that to Dean of course. 

Next thing he knew, Dean was right up in his face. “Time to go out, Sammy.” 

“I’m tired, Dean,” he pouted back. All he wanted to do was cuddle up on the couch and catch up on Netflix. “Rain Check?”

But Dean took no pity in him. “Nope. Up. Dressed. Now,” he punctuated every word with a noogie into Sam’s hair. 

“Ouch!” Sam shot up, growling at him. “Fine! Just so you’ll get off my back.”

Dean smiled wider. “There’s my bitch.” 

“Jerk.” he pouted, rising from the couch and padding towards his room. 

Dean was right. He needed to get out. Laying around the apartment eating ice cream wasn’t going to make him miss Gabriel any less. 

He sighed. He missed the other man so much it felt like a physical wound, but Sam deserved more than a drunk who lashed out at those who cared about him when they got mad. He had had enough of that from his father. 

“Can I at least ask where we’re going?” he hollered into the hallway. 

“Nope,” came the reply. “Just put on something nice.” 

Sam threw open his closet, looking over his dismal supply of “nice” clothing. He’d never been one for fancy, preferring jeans and flannels and gym shorts. Luckily his current career allowed him to spend time in his sweats. 

He finally settled on a green button up that was only slightly too tight across the shoulders and an ancient pair of black slacks. He didn’t have good shoes that fit anymore, so he settled on his cleanest pair of sneakers, which happened to be his black converse. 

Sam ran a hand through his hair to try and tidy it, and put on just a dash of cologne just because he had it. He went into the living room to find Dean and Cas chatting animatedly, but they abruptly stopped when he entered. 

“Ready, princess?” Dean smirked as he stood up. 

Sam huffed and grabbed his keys and his wallet from the coffee table, shrugging his jacket over his shoulders. 

He didn’t like the twinkle in Dean’s eyes as they walked down stairs and onto the street, it meant trouble. 

They picked up the Impala from the parking garage down the street and merged into dismal Manhattan traffic. 

Sam didn’t know how Dean dealt with it, the congestion and threats to the safety of his baby. Sam prefered the subway. As gross as it sometimes was, at least he wasn’t trusting his life to angry Manhattanites. 

They turned onto West St, driving north along the Hudson River, classic rock blasting out of the windows. His gaze drifted towards the water, and the reflection of the lights from New Jersey. 

None of them spoke for the remainder of the journey, instead allowing the music to erase any tension that had been lingering. A low anxiety simmered in Sam’s stomach the farther uptown they drove, until they got off in the heart of Chelsea. 

Chelsea was an artsy neighborhood in Midtown, well known for its theater and art. Sam had only been there a handful of times, mostly with Gabriel and his friends. It wasn’t really his scene, or Dean’s, so he was very confused why he was parking the car in front of an art gallery. 

Sam climbed out of the back of the car, after Cas, and stretched his legs. 

It only took him a second to recognize whose pictures were being displayed inside. 

Gabriel’s. 

“I’m not going in there.” he said quickly, his breathing becoming quicker and more uneven, his hands trembling. He couldn’t see Gabriel, not right now, maybe not ever. 

“Yes, you are,” Dean countered, grabbing Sam’s arm. “I didn’t drive all the way to Chelsea for nothing.” 

Sam rounded on Cas, surveying the brother with his usual level stare. “If this is an attempt to get us back-” 

“It’s not,” Cas cut him off. “Gabriel knows nothing about this. He made me promise I wouldn’t mention it at the gym.” 

“So you kidnapped me instead?” 

“You came willingly,” Cas pointed out. “I just think you should see the pictures, that’s all. You can leave right after if you want. You don’t even have to talk to him, just look.” 

A prickle of shame crawled over Sam’s skin. Somehow Cas always managed to make him feel awful. 

“Fine.” 

Cas flashed him a grin and took Dean’s arm as they walked towards the entrance. Sam skulked behind them, trying to make himself look as small as possible. Maybe he could get away with taking a lap and sneaking out the side door.

The gallery was warm against the chill air, and already filling with people, a low chatter swallowing him as he walked inside. 

He didn’t recognize the subject at first, but as the realization of what he was seeing dawned on him, he felt hot all over. 

The left side of the gallery was lit up like a Christmas tree, and every single picture was of Sam. 

Sam in the gym on the day they first met. 

Sam at the Museum, looking at the Hall of Biodiversity. 

Sam, cooking dinner.

Sam, sleeping. 

The right side of the gallery was wreathed in shadow, the pictures there of a different timbre than the last set. Sam couldn’t help himself, getting closer and forgetting his plan about leaving all together. 

This set was much darker, starting with what Sam assumed was a worn picture of Cas as a child, curled up with a ragged blanket. It only went downhill from there, in subject, but not in quality. 

Lucifer, whom Sam only knew from the gaunt figure in the hospital bed, featured prominently, cuddled up with Cas, then looking like a different person altogether, being taken away by harried EMTs. 

It was followed by a picture of the empty liquor bottles in Gabriel’s bathroom, and then in the garbage. 

Sam hadn’t even realized he was crying, not feeling the tear until it slipped soundlessly down his neck. 

His emotions all caught up to him at once, joy and sadness, empathy and angry, leaving him feeling scraped raw and throbbing.

“Sam?”

He heard Gabriel’s voice, and he turned towards the source, seeing him without really seeing him. 

“Sam, how did you-” 

Sam tracked his gaze to Dean and Cas, watching from the sidelines. His nostrils flared angrily, and he turned back. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel responded quickly. “I never asked-, I didn’t -” 

Sam cut him short. “I know.”

Gabriel looked deflated. “You don’t have to stay.” 

“I know.” 

Gabriel looked mostly the same as had before, except more put together. He was wearing black slacks and a blazer, with a maroon shirt that brought out the gold in his eyes. Even his hair was combed, and Sam could tell from the way he smelled, he’d shaved as well. 

“I want to stay.” Sam said quietly. “When did you take all these pictures of me? I’ve never seen them.” 

“When we were...together...obviously.” He wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “I just didn’t have time to develop them until… after.”

Sam didn’t have a chance to speak up before Gabriel started talking again. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he murmured. “For everything. You were right, about Luc, about me. He wouldn’t have wanted me to follow him into the bottle. I have a therapist now and she’s helping me work through it-”

“Gabe, stop.” Sam smiled. 

“She’s really good,” he continued, still looking down. “ I see her twice a week and-”

“Gabriel, shut up.” 

He finally looked up, tears shining in his eyes. “What?”

“You’re talking so much I can’t kiss you… you big, dumb idiot.” 

Sam leaned in and kissed him, lightly at first, then harder as Gabriel surged up to meet him. 

They only stopped when they were out of breath. 

“Does this mean we can get back together?” Gabriel asked, his hand in Sam’s hair. 

“Can we take it one day at a time?” 

Sam hoped a second kiss was enough to answer that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who helped me with this fic, whether it be beta-ing or cheerleading.
> 
> Special shoutouts to Toasty, Sima, Wolfie and everyone else!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful artist, meangreenlimabean for the amazing banner and picspam!


End file.
